black coffee

This morning
quiet
modern apartment
turned off heater

surfed 100 channels
found a decent B-movie,
temperature perfect

the usual muscle pains
sunny blue sky outside
(also loose dogs and barbarians)

fixed gourmet coffee.
I like creamer
but there isn't any.
I also like Audis
but there isn't one,
not even an old Honda

There are art supplies,
and after some fumbling
and some wasted paper,
I turn out a piece
I'm proud of

It's still quiet and that's nice.
Beneath the bitterness,
the coffee's rich and delicious.

The past weeks were ugly,
(but like better chapters of my life)
they're over:
vanquished, vanished

I don't feel so great,
partly because my back
has invisible daggers in it,
and partly for reasons
I just can't discuss

But it's quiet here
except for some gentle bird song,
and I always like that.
I've got lots of books,
(including one with drawings
by ancient Thai monks;)
maybe I'll read one later

Also, this morning,
some friends sent good news
via the world wide web.
Then I've been chatting
with an old girlfriend.
that's been nice, a little too nice:
makes my heart thump,
and my neck hair stand up...
at different times.

See, I like iced white mochas,
light on the chocolate
and no whip cream.
then I sprinkle on some cinnamon,
maybe a little nutmeg.
But, really, any decent coffee
(with milk and sugar)
does just fine

But this morning, it's just black coffee.
I don't get paid for a couple days,
so that's how it's gonna be.

Actually, it tastes all-right:
nice to change things up.
Besides, things could be a lot worse,
and I would know. believe me

well, thanks for reading.
guess I'll get back to work