On Finding the 100% Perfect Cup of Coffee
Let it linger in the air
The vapors slowly settle from their altitude until it lands
With a kiss
On your nose
As I smell it, I have a memory of lips
The taste of those lips, to be precise
Whispering the cached song it promised
And all the devilish details of the aroma
Eases close to my face saying
“This must be the place”
But it’s not talking to me
It’s talking to the heart that gives those lips its song
Conjuring romanticism out of thin air
Because it knows the secret alchemy that gives
Genesis to the look we once had from our exchanged eyes
Ones that promise a lifetime of images and words
But the heart knows that the vocabulary is limited
We need a new language now, one you can touch instead of speak
We need a new universe, one where we always know to meet on the moon
But which one, for I see two with a big warm smile beneath them
We need a new history.
But that’s getting off course.
Back to the coffee.
The full blackness of the coffee
Could easily be read as an all-consuming nihilism
A blank admittance to the futility of life in its darkest shades
Inside everyone, there lives something boiling and pitch
If you don’t swallow it, you will be burned and marked in your very throat
You find it harder to get rid of
We all know the molten pain that slides into our souls.
But, I don’t read that when it’s the 100% perfect cup
No, what I see in the ebony hue
Is the comfort of the starless blanket of the night sky
Keeping me up faster than any caffeine
With the promise that I once had someone to speak back to me
Telling me all her thoughts and secrets
The darkness of this cup would never make me feel lonely anymore
La variedad de cafe
estimula una pieza de mí
Eso quiere ver el mundo
desde dentro de una sola taza
árabe, francés, japonés
Pero por favor, disculpe mi español
Soy nuevo en esta copa
And enter a world I never expected
A vibrant vitality
kick starting my heart’s engine
In caffeinated arrhythmia
Pulling me out of my lay
I look forward
to that one perfect cup
I can do anything
We can be heroes
We can set
Coffee cools overtime.
Heat is lost.
You didn’t drink it right back when it was hot and ready.
You hesitated because you couldn’t face the quick pain.
It might be easier to drink without getting burned by the time the coffee cools.
but it loses that zest and the lust for everything it gives you fades.
What’s the point of not throwing this cup away?
And the aroma grows more and more distant.
And you don’t find a reason to go back.
And you forget how to brew it right.
And life just becomes life.
Boring, empty, nothing to drink.
You can’t quit it that easily though.
Caffeine fit is too strong.
You go searching for some fleeting cups
just to keep your addiction in check.
They’re not the same.
They’re less than perfect.
But you can’t get the perfect cup anymore.
You can just decide you’ll be around to witness the beans become uprooted and ground and brewed into the most beautiful, ephemeral smelling coffee of all time and witness its 100% perfection and be glad it’s in your world.
Even if it’s somebody else’s cup now.
But who knows the future?
I still dream of being able to taste those delicately mellow lips and be ignited one more time.
This time, I won’t burn through it so fast, I hope.
This time, I’ll remember how to brew it just right.
I’ll take a sip of that 100% perfect cup of coffee.
And then I’ll wake up.
And I’ll stick around.
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