coffee

Frothy lips
Heat touches my tongue
I taste sweet

There is dust below my feet
Brown beans and cake crumbs
I look above my head and imagine the ceiling is the floor
Virgin slats of unscuffed pine
that is my mind.
Lights beneath my shoes
My body aglow
My head is a burning bulb

Everyone here is staring into their own heads
On computers and books
On screen and paper worlds
Silent solitary voices simmering
Grinding thoughts
Tamping ideas
Brains reaching boiling point
Dripping history
Dripping poetry
Dripping politics
Dripping emotion
Dripping their minds
Dripping coffee
Into a cup
Into a world

Drip drip
Onto the floor
That is the ceiling
That is my world upside-down

Frothy lips
Heat touches my tongue
My lips are sweet milk
My tongue is earl grey
I warm my hands on a mug of tea
Remember her bitter lips
And wonder what it would be like to drink coffee