Coffee
changes color as it swirls,
my morning chameleon.
The spoon drowns in caffeine;
I’d inject it directly into my veins if I could,
if it was feasible.
I’d swallow pills dry
if they tasted like peppermint mocha.
Coffee
makes my heart race,
a mouse stuck in a never-ending wheel
until his little ticker gives out.
Did you know
that if you give a mouse a button
to trigger his nucleus accumbens
he’ll push it over and over and over
until he passes out?
That’s how I feel about coffee-
more and more and more
until my cardiovascular organ bursts
and my blood turns to bean juice.
Every morning
I make coffee like a Holy Prayer,
light the candles and open the gospel,
anoint my body with International Delight;
let coffee steal my soul
until I’m nothing but a husk of
eye bags and little sleep.