Monday, July 20, 2015

This is one hot Monday - New poem: Coffee: The Eighth Wonder of the World

Scott and I had a delicious Scallop dinner. Scallops were on sale - $4 off per pound - at the Giant, so I bought extras so I could have another meal for lunch the morrow.

Then we went for a walk around our hilly neighborhood, sweating profusely. But you know what? It feels great to sweat. When I was on lithium, I know, I know, I've probly told you this a million times, I barely sweated atall, probly indicating kidney ruination.

Told Scott, who's off tonite, we'd eat at 6 pm. But, no, I was in my upstairs office, with the fan blasting on my hot body, working on a poem about coffee I promised myself I'd write.

Watched a film on Netflix today called An Amish Murder. Full of nice surprises and gory female bodies that weren't too sickening. It starred Neve Campbell, a famous actress, who I've never heard of.

I posted the Coffee Poem on FB and haven't gotten a single comment. Hold on! Lemme go check. My life is held in the balance.

Ah, thank you Patrick Cox!

You know what? I'm too scared to read my coffee poem.

YOU read it and tell me what you think. Okay, Ezra.... Sapphos.... and Emily?

COFFEE:  The Eighth Wonder of the World

Time buries all good things
The Great Pyramid of Giza
The Hanging Gardens of Babylon
The Colossus of Rhodes
The Seven Wonders of
The Western World

Once we celebrated these
marvels, saddling ourselves
on the camel or sailing in
colorful ships to stand
faces aloft before the
Colossus of Rhodes, the
Sun God, who saved our
fair city from the pillage
of the barbarian.

I have beseeched the
gods, and I am only here
for a little while, to add an
Eighth Wonder, an elixir
called by various names.

The vehicle of my epoch is
called “car.” Those who
drive them are often seen
drinking plastic bottles
filled with water or
paper cups of coffee
held in the hand, sipping
from a tiny blow hole,
the earthen-brown liquid
shimmering inside.

I drive through town
sipping from a tall
blue china mug with
a fleur-de-lis
pattern, it is warm
in my hand, as I take
tiny hot sips and
then it begins.

The red light glows
like fresh cherries
swaying on the tree,
the man smoking in the car next
to me is a film noir idol,
escaping the Nazis. I
wish him godspeed.

And I, the girl in the
mirror with the Hungarian
eyes, have fallen in love
with the world, one sweet
bite at a time.

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