I skipped coffee yesterday. That was a mistake.
September 15, 2021
A Song on the Stove
I made some good coffee this morning. The taste varies, you know. I use an old pot. It’s the one my parents used back in the day. No special science, simply a perking paradise of memory and aroma. We’d go camping in the mountains and the pot would go with us. Or company would come and the pot would rejoice at the sound of laughter in the kitchen and living room, stories being told, and clouds of cigarette smoke. The back door slams. Kids and cousins, aunts and uncles, friends and neighbors known since childhood, those who miraculously survived atrocities, depressions, and wars. A song on the old gas stove. Experience. And yet each cupful is fresh and new. I remember what I remember. I forget what I forget. I let go of everything but the handle.
Recently Banned Literature, March 29, 2018
[ 1228 ]
Categories: Everything and Nothing, New Poems & Pieces, Recently Banned Literature
Tags: Addictions, Cigarettes, Coffee, Diaries, Gas Stoves, Journals, Memory