this is me
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the coffee is hot, strong and..
the coffee is hot, strong and bitter. i sip it carefully,
blowing across the top of the paper cup before drawing it
back over my teeth with a slight slurp. it looks like a
shiny pool of thick oil and the steam, rising, curling and
wavering in front of me makes my nose damp. if i look long
enough will i see my future in its dark reflection? i can
only see the ceiling above me, bending and twisting gently
as the coffee slips back and forth.
i've drunk over half of the cup and now the white of the
bottom appears as i raise it to my lips. with each
caffeine loaded mouthful the crescent of white becomes
larger, like some pale moon, rising slowly over a quiet sea
in the dead of night. my phone rings and i am interrupted.
(C) mike curd 2002