Hills Bros. Double Mocha

Posted: 10/05/2013 in house of blues, house of change

i like

coffee from a certain mug.

i like

a certain brand,

and i make it while night still fills the windows.

 

i like

the warm familiar way it feels on my lips.

i like

that i have had it before, and before, and before,

as the seasons and the light and the weather change.

 

today you walked out

and i don’t know if we are all right.

i don’t know if you will come back, or

if i will still be here if you do.

 

i don’t know when or how things changed,

but my coffee is gone

though i know there is more in the cupboard

and its aroma still lingers in the air.

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Comments
  1. Kay Davies says:

    I used to have a relationship like that with my coffee. Superseded every other need I had, even after I quit smoking. Then it started upsetting my stomach unless I mixed it with cocoa. Now (yesterday and today) I am having an ordinary drink of ordinary coffee in an ordinary mug. And I’m loving it. But my stomach did get upset yesterday.
    Oh, and my sweetie? Around here somewhere, I guess. I know the dog is here somewhere, too, but I’m thinking more coffee.
    K

  2. hedgewitch says:

    Had a feeling this wouldn’t be about coffee at all, even after drinking the pot dry. This reads to me like thoughts and feelings written in the condensed vapor that clouds the kitchen window

  3. Herotomost says:

    I so love the slow and deliberate pace of your voice when Coal Black is in the house. There is a relaxed nostalgic sound to it. At the same time you know that if you lived in that house, you would be crazy by Tuesday morning with boredom and creepiness. All you would have is your writing and your coffee. Maybe thats enough if you can just get used to it. You know I love it…I don’t have to tell you.

  4. There is something very comforting about the familiarity of coffee.

  5. grapeling says:

    even the line breaks convey a sense of ‘missing’

  6. Well, even the Quakers, tea being the strongest thing they drank, objected to the taxes imposed at the Boston tea party. It is odd how a new hint of a lover can wake up our fertility and desire, naturally… but even more odd that coffee does the same thing in males…then you give us the empty pot!

  7. Mama Zen says:

    Coffee gone? Who would dare?

  8. a great deal is wrapped into the coffee…wonderful piece

  9. There is only one coffee and one way to fix it in this house – my husband loves his coffee, strong, sweet, creamed and from a percolator!
    I like that last line.

  10. lolamouse says:

    The nerve of someone leaving you AND taking your coffee! I like…this poem.

  11. So, I get the impression from the comments that this poem is not primarily about coffee. Where did I take a wrong turn? 😉

    It’s wonderful in its simplicity. You don’t always write with simple parallels, but it’s always good…good to the last drop…

  12. Coffee as a metaphor for that sinking feeling… First, thought it was simply about the bean, and that’s fine, but all the “familiarity” of the certain cup, etc., took on a new light. BRILL.

    Me and Mr. Coffee, we got a thiiiiiiing going onnnn… ha ha. I grew up with the smell of coffee in the morning, and after a million cups shared with friends, with my mom when she was sober, I cannot start the day without it… even though I had to downgrade to decaf… sigh. Amy

  13. dani says:

    whoa, mama!!! i’m so glad you’re back, Coal!!! you rock AND roll! {make mine an iced coffee, please.}

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