A Zen Cup of Coffee

(dedicated to my friend Nick Mason)

At 18,
my parents took me to Kona, Hawaii where
(surrounded by miles and miles
of black, barren volcanic tranquillity)
we visited a coffee plantation:
(there was an elaborate display
showing each step of coffee creation.)
Afterward,
we took a swim on a black sand beach

Later, having come to teach English in Thailand
(surrounded by Asiatic splendor and 3rd world squalor)
I would of a working morning
always buy 2 cans of cold coffee and a sausage
which I'd give to a mangy street dog
who I called Friendly
(his mange improved weekly:
I was congratulating myself grandly
when I came upon a truly giant hound
afflicted with the same condition)

On the Planet Zordac,
there is a three-eyed reptilian janitor
right now savoring a hot and stimulating electric blue brew
with a tasty cheese zurger;
in his spare time,
he's been discussing free-will, pornography,
and "the zuniversal zimperative"
with his pal the philosopher Zimmanuel Zant,
who carries on a virtual correspondence
with the Zapanese poet Zasho
(he plays the zxylophone)

this haiku morning
(with a million dollar steak)
I took zen coffee