WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT CAFFEINE
Each year coffee is harvested during the dry season when the coffee cherries are bright red, glossy, and firm.
Coffee is a woman; a slander, sultry brunette. Stimulating and addictive. Savage but tender.
Oh, sweet coffee,
Without you,
I’d be a lonely cigarette.
Coffee is a ritual; the equivalent of a Shamanic fire ceremony. A private moment, with the purer higher self.
Oh, sweet coffee,
Without you,
I’d be lethargic and sedated.
Coffee is an excuse; to sit alone in a central café with a book in hand, pretending to be interesting.
Oh, sweet coffee,
Without you,
I’d be a raging bitch.
Coffee is a rendezvous; with a friend soon to be lover, soon to be boyfriend, soon to be a voodoo doll.
Oh, sweet coffee,
Without you,
I’d rather sleep.
Coffee is cinema; because agent Dale Cooper likes his coffee black, as midnight in a moonless night.
Oh, sweet coffee,
Without you,
I’d have as many regrets as the coffee spoons I until now had.
“I’d rather take coffee than compliments just now.” – Louisa May Alcott, Little Women
