Morning Joe

Juniper blended with the richness of Mohagany as the well soaped Maidens accompliced in the impness of Dawn. A strong coffee poulticed a hint of Cinnamon, and Clove prepared expectations. The morning fog was lifting her skirt in a slow tease, as both veil and curtain. A suspenseful reveal that caromed with the steam of my cup. A main event about to be undressed, and redressed with the Maidens. I johned in, in that usual unpure-,pure- folly. Knew it was welcomed guest, practically an extorter, to creep in at any hour, in to steal a gloat in unwarded cameo. This inadvertently but unthwarted- headtable- "honored guest", that shared more and more in my ritual of daydreams, that intertwined also into some of my more run of the milled needs. Melding more and more, as a dysfunctional elixir of happenstance, and of either need or greed. I found them also, the "Barista Girls", like a gaggle of something curious- in cackle,- buying entrance with teased looks mocking,- my inflammation of inflection,- with their vixened vexation, -but also in snare; flared to wonder their wander into mine stare. One of a thawing malaise,- of curiousity shops and shared spaces. Places: Coffee bean aroma and aproned bread trinkets- become a "suitable" showcase. I realized its humorous "colorance" in poetic knowledge's abionce. "Man shall not live by bread alone." But the scone was a genius match. Something to chew on. A fitting poetry, (binding really) by the Master Story Setter- that forbode,- the Protaganist himself and also let me know that, 'he is aware of my dirty thoughts.': To prop my stage and to reflect as a mirror does. To hold in check the soul. How the pillows fluffed. My thoughts blanketed me, "tucked me to the chin" with their silkys and fuzzy warmths. Feathers that cascade in a rockabye lull-fashion. My system of down. Downy. Snuggle. Oh women will be my downfall. Vipers that push their venom. "I think God created coffee and tea with Poet in mind." I rebuked my thoughtful sins to Him and left a healthy tip for them.