French Vanilla
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
I’m
doing.
“What I’m doing?”
said I.
“Well, I’m
drinking.”
And my old
friend raised
a mug in
my name
and said
amen.
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!
Liked or faved by...
