to the dregs

i purposely dodge comprehension
is a poet one who wishes to be understood …
or misunderstood?

me oh my
i spoke on the phone
distracted —

my coffee running dry
the last in a large cup
a white mug with hearts on it,
‘borrowed’ from my grandmother’s house
never to be returned

(they took her things and marketed treasure
like it was so many tides of ill-repute)

but the cup i got
the now empty cup ….

still on the phone i wander to the kitchen,
note the empty coffee pot and wander back to
the blue easy chair.

2 minutes later i stand up again —
go to the kitchen, note the empty pot, then
wander back

by the third time i conduct this trek into the kitchen

my friend finally mentions a bad connection
that she can’t hear me so well; i laugh
and say i’m going in and out of the kitchen

that i keep expecting a new pot of coffee to appear
to make itself – yet the deliberate nature of the task
is beyond my allowance:
i know i can’t

if one doesn’t do it then go back to bed,
or take your lumps. stumble your way through the day,
do your best to not cause too much damage

what is worth the time?
often i smile for no reason …

none at all.


4 Replies to “to the dregs”

  1. thanks, David — it’s actually easier to pen the every-day sort, and i can still squeeze in my proclivity for rhetoric! lol …. but the wording doesn’t take quite so much out of me.

Feedback always welcome

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