ANOTHER CUP OF COFFEE
Winter Prompt #4
But this is my first—unless you count all
the cups I’ve had, starting when I was sixteen,
at church camp, tired because I’d been up late
making out with another counselor.
Then almost every morning for the rest
of high school—Dad’s strong stuff—A & P’s Bokar
was it?—made in a cheap percolator.
Then bad college dining hall coffee, and
during exams, instant made with tap water.
The last cup I had with Tom, in “The Den.”
The first cup I had with John, in “The Den.”
The coffee I made in the Corningware
percolator we got as a wedding gift.
Later, we got a Melita, because
some cool friends had one. We drank their coffee
while we plotted the revolution that
never came. And then my dear French press.
How many cups in how many coffee
shops with friends, or alone with a notebook?
How many in diners and restaurants?
How many, early mornings, in camp grounds?
So yes. Another one, this morning. Blue mug,
dark roast. The old white cat, my silver pen,
the glass-topped table desk, the brass lamp. . .
Jan. 23, 2018