Coffee and his shop

I used to live next to

the coffee master and his shop

He was older and smiled

at me in a way that should

have made me feel uncomfortable

One time, oh I think it was a little after

eleven a young man in expensive jeans came

in and ordered coffee with gobs of sweet and fat

and the coffee master said,

“You don’t really like coffee –do ya”

I laughed so damn hard

I nosed some of my coffee

The coffee master looked at me

the way he looks sometimes

at young women and then went back

to his roasting and muttering

perfection

And for some reason

when I get real down and lonely

I go to a coffee shop and anytime someone

asks for some gobs

I expect to hear – You don’t really like coffee

-do ya

but  its some yippy shit–some

jack ball behind the counter

who doesn’t like coffee

either –just a job

to pay the porn bill

and so the coffee tastes like

straw and stale almonds

pressed in puddle water

-served in a wide mouth cup

on dinky little saucer

and I’m the one saying,

“You don’t really like coffee -do ya”

as I leave before I can be asked

if I want a free refill

Daughter And I In Red

Daughter and I walked through the red woods

I told her to be silent and listen to the music

of the forest

and she did

Then she looked at me and smiled and laughed

In the shade of thousand plus year old trees

I taught her everything I knew

that was important