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SATURDAY MORNING, WINTER
The radio is suddenly blaring and the clock of the stove says seven o’clock but the window retorts it is winter when there is no time. You pull up your collar as you prepare to leave. At the store, pick up a baguette, it will go well with a pork tenderloin with a sauce of…
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FIRST PERIOD
They stand impatiently in line chattering, giggling, tittering like so many schoolgirls with secrets they promised to keep to their deaths and have to immediately tell a friend. “Did you hear about Letitia?” one says, and goes on to say she shared her journal with several other girls in the eighth grade. It goes on…
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ERATO PREFERS LATTE
My muse sits quietly on the shelf over the counter in the Café Espresso at Barnes and Noble nestled between 12 ounce bags of Colombian Supremo and Kenya AA, in the shadow of the plant whose leaves reach out to caress her cheek. She whispers to me between notes from the guitarist performing on the…
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ASKED AND ANSWERED
This morning I made the mistake of asking where the coffee beans were. My spouse didn’t hear me, but Siri offered her opinion, leaning toward Guatemala. That didn’t set well with Alexa who said they were either in the cabinet over the stove, of in Papua New Guinea, since she prefers lower acidic coffee. Probably…
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INCEPTION
Morning arrived as usual today and we shook ourselves slowly from sleep to greet it. As we rose and drew open the curtains and blinds all that morning had to say, and said rather imperiously was “where is the coffee — you can’t expect a damn thing from me until I’ve had at least two…
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ANOTHER GHETTO
She sits in the bookstore cafe her head covered by a linen kerchief bobby pinned to the mass of walnut curls. She cradles the cup of cooling coffee and stares down at the slim book of Amichai, yielding to the Hebrew letters that seem to dance across the page. I sit at the adjoining table…
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COFFEE ROASTING
They dance defiantly denying gravity as they tumble through the air. They cede their color reluctantly, Now a beige, but soon a defiant chocolate-brown, milk turning slowly dark. They entice you, their perfume perhaps too strong for some, but it draws you in and you cannot help but imagine how the thought of them will…
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DOUBLE ESPRESSO
Buddha walked slowly into the coffee house and ordered a large mochachino. He approached the sofa in the corner and folded himself neatly and precisely into and among its overstuffed cushions to the delight of a five year old pulling at his mother’s sweater as she struggles to finish her latte. “The body,” Buddha says…
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an old writer and his words 