Poetics: Black, i take her

"When I grind it,
it smells like soy sauce,"
the boy barrista behind the counter
says, his curls slithering for his eyes
as he folds scalded milk
into espresso

"Smooth though," i

& he, "Yeah, it's one coffee
i can drink black."

but i've been drinking it
like that since days on the docks,
loading, unloading my way through
high school, among the old men

old men then, now i empathize
their cheers of "go young man"
between sip & steam blow
as i tossed mine back to move
twice as many boxes, thinking
it impressive

a young man's folly, to finish quick
my oldest lover, wet lipped & warm
i take her in my mouth, no longer
ever green or cherry, heady & deep
upon my tongue, tight roping veins
in bare feet, i am young in her, i am
days and nights along her surface, culture,
moments, memories writhe
each taste & she flaunts
her boldness without need
to tease or be dressed
sweet or cut with milk---

"Black is the only way i take mine,"
i tell him, "any other is not to accept her
for who she is."

He is off to another customer already,
but one day perhaps he will understand
and i let the cup settle atop the wood table
admiring the way the sun slices
across her body, whisper

"good morning..."

Over at dVerse Poets today, Mark Kerstetter is tending the pub and having us focus on an object, making it come alive. I probably went a bit afar a field but, it was some good coffee this morning and i could not help myself. Drop in at 3 pm EST and he will explain it far better than I. See you there.

submitted as well to Poetry Jam.