Happy National Coffee Day!

Taste of Adulthood

"Why do I like coffee
so much?" I wonder, from
time to time. Perhaps
it's because Mom and
Dad drank it routinely
while I was growing
up. It seemed like
such an "adult" drink --
a special, yet necessary
treat -- with milk and
sugar each morning.
Or maybe because it
reminds me of my
college years --
discovering mochas,
hazelnut lattes, the smell
of espresso and the cool
coffeehouse culture.
I was finally a grown-up
enjoying the taste of
adulthood for myself.

(First day of autumn)

First day of autumn:
Reading on the porch with a
roast in the Crock-Pot.

Turning

There is nothing left
but bone --
no more skin,
no more muscle,
no more ligaments.
Just bone.

I've sat here
for nearly 40 years
bleeding
love,
joy,
peace,
patience,
kindness,
goodness,
faithfulness,
gentleness
and self-control
while you --
slap by slap,
blow by blow,
year by year --
stripped away
my flesh,
my heart,
my soul.

Today, I realized
that the pain
will never stop
as long as I
stay here.
Gripping the back
of the pew in front of me,
I manage to
stand to my feet
and slowly
find the exit
as you shout
in shock and outrage,
"But I love you!"
as the sound waves
bounce around
in the empty cavity

of my second cheek. 

Some Things

Some things
silence the
professional speaker.
Some things
stump the
international intellectual.
Some things
paralyze the
confident wordsmith.
Some things...

Detail Orientation

My mind is like
a vacuum cleaner,
sucking up
a million, minute details,
like particles of
dust, dirt and fiber.
The bits of material
spin around, colliding
into each other
in a volume
so dense and
at a rate so rapid
that they cause
my brain to buzz
like a tornado --
claiming, collecting and
wildly whirling
pieces and parcels
in a violent, possessive fury.
While my non-detail-
oriented neighbor
may have a peaceful, half-
empty vacuum cleaner bag --
with room for more matter --
mine is filled to capacity
and humming with heat.

A work haiku in honor of Labor Day:

startled by twin burps --
the secret belcher hidden
in his cubicle