An Unroasted Bean

tonight cold rain fell as heavy snow flakes fat with polar dew roads turned to sideshows skies black as crows but the java tastes off (beans must've turned south) as I haunt crowded coffee bars full of latte frothed mouths and hip addictions the melt-water from my boots pools below me an old lady slips on the floorboard so I grab her arm and feel what a fresh half caff feels like splashed on bare skin I grimace and take the penance for interacting with the world (my daily hair shirt) I need to kill the self to save the self break the walls to climb the walls out of a mood that matches the monochromatic day napkin, scrap notebook scribble full of hasty rhymes feckless words such heady tonics (like stolen whiskey) the more I drink the more I thirst the scratch of the pencil like the tap of the needle geography doesn't matter if you curse the goddamn candle or call to midnight or rage at dawnlight so in a crowd, alone I sing silent songs in the dark cellar of my heart and wait as reflected faces move across frosted glass, murmuring low conversations around me while salt trucks pass (like rumbling oliphants) and melt it all away....