Black strap,
cold and dark,
strong as molasses
with hints of amber.
I lift the carafe
to fluorescent lights.
Good. No clouds
pour into the pan.
18/10 stainless hits the ring
pretend fire on electric range.
I long for gas, and a pass…
forgiveness of my sins.
Boiling down to bitter,
cutting the edge with cream.
Why settle for yesterday’s brew,
while jars hold roasted beans?
Depression swirls in my cup,
settles to grit the bottom,
Why bother with a fresh pot?
Tomorrow is not promised.
I smoke my cigarette.
Inhale, exhale, life’s a drag.
Smoke trails white from red
ash covered tip, as I sip.
Where are the days
edged in mania?
Where are the nights
that break near dawn?
I can deal with racing thoughts,
a kaleidoscope of creative ideas
rushing faster than I can spin,
jotting notes to make art again.
Can I crawl back in my bed?
Take the time to clear my head?
Erase the words that were said,
By those who act like I am dead?
I put on my face with makeup,
shovel it on with a trowel,
then buff it off with paper towels.
Paint on a smile with Maybelline.
Soon I’m dressed and out the door.
My down side of up is a private war,
No one needs to know the score,
It’s time to laugh and smile again.
I would really like to make amends
to the man I loved as my dear friend.
His raw assumptions were not true,
But I do want my cake and eat it, too.
Why should a woman have to choose?
She could have friends and lovers, too.
Yes, I kept my secrets close to home,
I had to sort some things out on my own.
I’m warming this up like yesterday’s brew,
it was never a choice between the two,
I cannot understand, I’m lost and confused,
I miss my friend, but there is nothing I can do.
Barnbees 