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About This Poem
I take mine black
I never understood
when I was a kid
what it was with adults
and coffee.
It was, "Would you like some?"
"Won't you stay for some?"
"How do you like yours?"
"What brand is that?"
"Did you get a good price?"
and, "Oh, this is really good!"
It was maddening to me,
and I just wanted to say,
"Shut up and drink your
g--damned coffee!
It is just the same that
you drank yesterday,
and probably,
a week ago, Sunday!
But now I understand
and youth may be excused
the value of a shared cup
when everything is going
wrong, or the value
of precisely thirteen spoonfuls
everyday, when that was all
you could count on, or
the value of gift to someone else,
when that was all you had
to give, or just the
remembrance of those times
when all this was true
brought back by
the smell and taste
of a cup of coffee.
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