That’s what I was telling him.
That’s exactly what I was telling him.
Lenny come in here screaming and hollering with —
“I don’t have my hat. When I get my hat that’s when you’ll see.”
Scratchin the pool table,
Bending over his stick like “hmmmmm.”
Serious as coffee.
What is that? Hey! What is that?
Don’t be Continue reading Boulevard of Broken Bus Stop’s
Union Market. A couple is leafing through a newspaper at the counter.
Man: We should check the Weekend Section.
Man: Hi, I’ll have a double americano.
Woman: Two please.
Barista: You got it. Are you going to buy that paper?
Barista: Are you going to purchase that?
Man: Ah, no. Just looking through it. Continue reading Morning Paper
The time has come for us to meet and sit and chat about nothing at all. In the hopes that something will arise out of the petty teeming; the who did this; the what color did that get painted — maybe we can reach a place of mutual curiosity.
In the tree house of Continue reading The day the ducks went in the fountain
At a cafe in Maine last week I stumbled upon a journal that someone had left in the floorboard of the wall. I was just staring into space, and thinking about my future — picking at the tiles near the sugar and napkin holder — when a larger piece fell with a PLOOP, and out comes the edges of fifty, maybe sixty pages tied together with faded twine. Continue reading The Lowest Denominator
Where are they? I’m not going to bullshit with you, I’m not going to let you steer me down some fuck-alley — Where are they? Do you have any idea what I could do to you? Do you have any notion of your own safety? You think because we’re in a public place that you’re safe? Hm.
I’m going Continue reading Over Coffee
You’re the cream in my coffee;
If I used cream for coffee.
You’re the nickel in a homeless mans shaking can,
As he struts along third ave and tenth being honked at by a van.
You’re the flap of a seagulls wings,
As it soars high Continue reading Down and Out, Or bad poetry is just like good poetry — only worse.
I’ve stopped drinking coffee.
It was hard and I would be lying if I say I didn’t miss it.
There is no way to wean coffee out of your life. I tried, but it didn’t work. The beans in the bag became stale. The grinder had an irritating whirr! as I prepared the french press. The hot water seemed to hurt the grinds. The absence of harmony was prescient in all these ritual ways and I should have seen it coming. I was selfish, stupid, and damn near impossible to reason with as the addiction to the precious liquid became too near, too dear. I became so dependent on coffee. It almost seemed as if coffee stopped me. Which I took absurdly personal.
I had an annoying incident with the makings of a headache. It never seemed to become a full on pain, but just suggested a fogginess, a blunt ache that was two inches away from my forehead. I was weak. I was sad. I was lonely and it was such a harsh offing of the sweet bean, that Continue reading Stop Coffee
I love coffee. Coffee mugs, cute spoons for measuring out coffee grinds, coffee machines—everything. This last Christmas I had asked for gourmet blends, and I received two bags of whole bean coffee. My coffee grinder broke, and I go into Whole Foods. It’s early, there’s already eight or ten people in line to purchase coffee/pastries. The grinder Continue reading The coffee situation