Untitled With Coffee
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if it was up to me, i would never
spend my time idling in a coffee shop,
nursing an iced drink i don't enjoy.

i would prefer
the base of an aging oak tree,
or the thin creek it shadows.

i could be
the sole captain of industry,
standing on thin banks of sand and
moss, delegating orders to water bugs,
listening for the creek's running water,
or maybe
a toad, rather than
whirring espresso machines,
not unlike 3 AM grackle birds
(i prefer daytime idling anyway).

under a tree like that,
i could finally be
the poison ivy in the backyard,
or the children's toy unseemingly
found in the middle of the forest.
a source of a thousand stories
for whomever happened upon me.
though i pray i wouldn't whittle
that oak tree down to a coffee cup.



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Dear Elle,

I need to get out of here. ¶ 3:57 AM |