Ode to a Lonely Coffee

French Vanilla,
a sweet taste
I haven’t had in a while.
Came back suddenly
when I stared too intently
at a table cloth’s grease stains.
Arriving on a silver platter
like an old friend
who grew richer
with time,
wondering how
I’ve been
and what
“What I’m doing?”
said I.
“Well, I’m
And my old
friend raised
a mug in
my name
and said
Numbers lost all meaning.
Rich golden waves
eased and relaxed,
followed luxury
into the night.
And I riding high
on this, my love,
my life.
Because I may fade away,
but fuck it, I’ll never die!


The unsolicited ending is so wrong and yet... so right

French Vanilla, Coffee, Friend, Eternal

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Cory Garcia

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