It’s About the Coffee

I will admit it,

It may be an addiction.

Addictions are so effortless to deny.

But this one,

I can comfortably admit.

It’s about coffee.

It developed in a romantic fashion.

You see,

My mother use to prepare Nescafe, instant, mixed with boiling water in a cup.

She stirs in milk and a spoonful of sugar.

Sweet, warm comfort to a child in a chaotic household.

I didn’t need instant Nescafe anymore, leaving my parents’ household at 18 or more.

Thought I outgrew it.

But I gave into the temptation of Yuban dry roasted coffee in a brown tin can,

the kind my roommate use to drink in the morning. I could see why:

Sipping it by the cup, prepared through a single serving cone lined with a filter, water poured through.

It was a moment of meditation,

to sit with one’s thoughts.

An enhancement to reading, writing, homework


a savored moment. Of harmony. Stillness.

Quickly enticing.

There is no turning back.

Coffee veins developed under my skin, keeping an open portal.

Organic French Roast, whole beans, discovered in a co-op, downtown Cotati, once on an excursion.

Before you know it, it was

Wild Fire.

Discoveries of Coffee Houses; The Petaluma Coffee Company and Tea, a favorite.

So many aromas, I have inhaled them all!

Rooster Roaster 11: Peru, Sumatra, Mexico.

“A damn good cup of coffee!”

Like a precession, there come others.

“The Apple Box”, the hole in the wall coffee house.

More modernly, Starbucks, Peet’s (though not like the classics).

Philz Coffee, gourmet.

#Cafe Nervosa/ Café Nirvana

I don’t care to hear the news of my long-time lover being “bad for your health”,


decades later, “there are some benefits”.

All’s I know is that it is intrinsic in the morning.

What addiction?

It is my Mr. Bright Side.

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