My last vice, my oldest friend

#NaPoWriMo

Www.napowrimo.net

Day 19

Hello reader, just a side note here, I’ll be putting these poems on my podcast in May and discussing my journey. The podcast is KDOI Podcasting click on the link, there are 3 seasons worth of art, discussion, interviews projects and more.

Food Inspirations. Flavors evoke myriad feelings, memories, expectations, and longings. Use these food-inspired poetry writing prompts to reflect on food-related topics and write a poem based on your reactions. The taste of coffee

Of note, the prompt at NaPoWriMo was not to my liking, I’m the poet so I get to choose. This prompt is more fitting for me.

My Last Vice, My Oldest Friend

19 April 2019

It must have been when I started reading the paper

I was staying awake to avoid the nightmares

The fiend was working third shift so there was always a pot either being emptied or being percolating

The red on on the maker always stared in my direction, unblinking, unwavering

the maddening dripping until the carafe was filled, as it was not to be touched until finished

the aroma of bitterness and anxiety

this dark elixir saving me from the screams in my head

As I progressed, don’t let them tell you it stunts a kids growth

I took on third shift jobs and learned the correct way to make this thick broth, the ways to craft this magic beverage

spending nights on flight lines that required awareness otherwise the surrendering of your life was the payment required

Deep in the heart of Texas I found my tribe

the cafe was much like those in Paris before the wars

where misfits and hoodlums defined art and philosophy

and no one could stand up to them

I was my place to rebel against the conformity that helped me escape the home I returned to continuously

After that too brief of time

I searched for the next den of iniquity

and found nothing to compare

oh there were chain bookstores with a coffee bar in the corner

next to the poetry section, but no one ever went there unless there was a reading

I’d run into a hip place here and there, but I’d arrive to early and leave just before it became a thing

and no one drinks joe after dinner, well no one sane

I tried the diners, but they wanted me to order food as well

so I ate a mountain of pie

they didn’t have the soul I was looking for

So I started going to the bars, the hop joints that served liquor in mugs

I imbibed in the tea of yore and hopped from couch to couch

but being high and caffeinated is not a great combination

I traveled around and arrived before the scene was on the rise, or came as it was their sunset

so I stopped looking and made my own java in my apartment

my children look at me in wonder at how I can put it away so easily

our friends are amazed I can drink it down and go to bed daily

they marvel at my lack of attention to circadian rhythms

I just sip away, smile on my face

the sting on my tounge and out flow the world of words

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