The Missus Served Me High Test Coffee
The missus served me high test coffee...
Ah... tis nothing more heavenly
(to one borne again devout atheist)
then a spring like January 18th, 2023
here at Highland Manor apartments
picturesque green covered landscape,
where intrepid dandelions
dare to defy month day on calendar
and sprout up here and there.
Resident wordsmith ensconced within Unit B44.
Actually both of us situated in bedroom;
his royal highness sitting on piano bench
(applying fingers to Macbook Pro keyboard
composing... er rather revising poem
he crafted some years ago,
(when old man winter wrought stranglehold;
now while hunched over at computer)
listening to the whistling wind
simultaneously acoustically imbibing
warm gentle breeze;
temperature approximately an unseasonable
fifty plus degrees Fahrenheit.
Meanwhile, the missus softly snoring abed,
the latter comfortably numb, oblivious
and toasty warm burrowed under blankets
since heat turned off
(to maintain positive standing with PECO)
curtain pulled back from window
to allow, enable, and provide transparency;
where unfettered bajillion photons
according to Pink Floyd uninterruptedly
shine on you crazy diamond,
trace sing head light shadows across wood
which hard phenomenon of scattering light
by colloidal particles,
known as Tyndall effect
naturally fostering creating, affecting
climate controlling environment.
I practice crafting poetry
(as if nothing else matters
to Metallica fan seeking posthumous fame)
while the spouse predictably after arising
from her early afternoon siesta
busies herself channel surfing
putting down remote control
after espying satisfactory movie
(say hypothetically Fatal Attractions,
which she viewed for umpteenth time)
knowing every single detail,
and can rattle offer personal tidbits
about cast of actors and actresses.
Our aforementioned regular routine
more or less repeated as finite loop until...
official onset rites of spring decreed,
where regular warm weather perfect balm
to allow, enable and provide
antidote to existential woes
coping with being solitudinarian,
and thus quarantined for life,
though sensing optimism
regarding president Joe Biden
green lighting living social pursuits
possibly revisiting following favorite pastime.
Recalling contra dancing
as palliative against bashfulness
life as high school wallflower ill served me
against risking experiencing rejection
qua teenage puppy love.
Though averse to plagiarize,
I thank Fiona Apple,
for the title of her
entirely acoustic fourth album,
who didst unwittingly describe
mine self emotional straitjacket
viz hitting The Idler Wheel Is Wiser
Than the Driver of the Screw
and Whipping Cords
Will Serve You More
Than Ropes Will Ever Do
prior to liberating locked up
healthy proclivities linkedin
between body, mind, and spirit.
Without any budding female friendships
until lo… agent tulle nudge;
which venue offered groundswell
to blossom forth into
golden sterling resplendent rod
of natural equipoise,
(an unbiased opinion) and balance
with freestyle improvisational swinging motions
unchained from moors of formality
lit figurative Saint Elmo’s
Sesame Street Big Bird
winging fiery dance
allowing, enabling and
providing shy awkward self
during his young early
twenty something adulthood
to cast away four ever
self emasculated handsome
straight as an arrow
tasting verboten fruit
naturally high as a kite young guy
buzzfeeding like yellow jacket
adopting spontaneity
that je ne sais quoi joie vivre
clamoring headlong toward pollination
healthy packing heat overflowing
testosterone bin laden well nigh
erupting sex pistol (stay man)
toward opposite gender,
whereby bravado donned as key
to hoe field of whet dreams
fostering initial albeit late blooming
roll in the hay hormonally
rooted rutting squeal to escape inhibitions
and quench suppressed libido!
Yes in unrhyming summation notation,
I felt mortified jump/kick starting
life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness
and let me mother over mollycoddle sole son
even though as a grown adult,
she hashtagged, yelled, and zapped
me once omnipresent boyhood maternal love
mein kampf predominantly
spent at 324 Level Road
familiar bedrock terrain
infrequently challenged fear of flying,
hence acquiesced into withdrawn existence.
Copyright ©
Matthew Harris
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