Dear Coffee, The One I love, Etc.

May 23, 2008
By Timothy Wallace, Houston, TX

Dear Coffee,
I love you.
If there was anything ever that I ever loved ever it would be you.
Ever.
I’m not talking about the milk-filled, sugared-down nonsense.
Oh no.
I’m talking about pure,
black,
unrelenting death,
waiting to wake me up each morning.
Frappuccino schmappacino
and if you ask me if I want a cappuccino
the answer would have to be
…no,
I think I’ll just stick with a warm cup of Joe.
I don’t care about Folgers,
“The best part of waking up,”
Or any brand inside my cup,
I just need a reason to drag myself out of my bed,
So fill my nostrils up to my head with the sweet smell of success,
And, yes, by success I mean
uh..coffee.
But especially now when I have nothing to look forward to
Besides 7 long hours inside a zoo?
So give me something
Oh please
Won’t you?
I don’t really ever ask for much
Besides your not-so-gentle touch
So hurt my nose and burn my throat and fill my stomach with a sense of hope
That maybe one day waking up won’t be so hard
When she’s not so far,
And we’re not at war,
And no one worries about commuter cars,
There aren’t so many sad men at bars,
And bankers will pick up their kids and put down their charts,
And homeless people could find something to live in besides card…
Oh, nevermind,
But if time is money and money is time,
Why can’t I buy yours to extend mine?


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