It has been a long time since I have written poetry about coffee. Makes me wonder if that former beau of mine from 18 ish years ago still carries around that other coffee poem.
I doubt it. I hope not. But now, in April 2020 and time of the pandemic most anything that seemed like science fiction is now possible.
Including me writing a poem told in two versions and three voices and... coffee.
Coffee, Desire and 3 of Me
Me, to Self: What is my heart’s desire right now?
Me: A cup of coffee
Me: That means I need to get up and walk across the room and fetch it myself
Me: I would rather stay here, under my blanket, computer across my lap, writing.
Other Self: So your heart’s desire is to sit there, under your blanket, computer across your lap, writing.
Self: I think she thought this was a simple desire, so she wrote it in her journal. She got her ass up and out of bed about thirty minutes ago to brew coffee. I think right now what she wishes is she would magically have someone who would appear to bring her a cup of coffee.
Other Self: This I know. But is a cup of coffee really worth a heart’s desire?
Me: Now I feel like my heart’s desire is to lift the computer off my lap to visit the restroom. Then I might do a livestream.
Other Self: Please, be consistent.
Me: I promised myself and no one else, really, I would livestream poetry. Today. Jane Hirschfield.
(and I poured myself a cup of coffee on my way to livestreaming.)
Other Self: How are we supposed to get anything done around here?
Self: Be patient. She will be back. Eventually.
Heart’s desire is…
a simple cup of plain, bitter but effective… coffee although
that means leaning out of comfort into the cold to fetch it
when I would rather stay here, under my pink and purple
blanket. Here, writing with my laptop, about desire when
I made a different choice.
My heart’s desire is…
to reach over and across and under the insignificant
and stretch into the living rooms of those who are also
alone while I drink
my cup
of coffee
= = = = =
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