by jhon baker

I need to start drinking iced coffee or maybe iced tea. I’m the only one I know that really doesn’t care for iced tea and I absolutely cannot stand iced coffee. iced soy chai – now your talking but why go out and spend five bucks just to sit outside and fuck around on the laptop. It is never too hot to enjoy the home brew – it is never too cold to eat a bowl of ice cream, and all movies watch better with popcorn.

Today’s poem is a few years old and has been published twice – once in Roadkill zen Journal and again in my book, hands on the hips (available from Amazon or signed if you order through the buttons in the upper right hand corner), I have put it up because RKzJ has closed their site and it is no longer available there – this is the bad thing about internet publication, it creates no history. I think I should take screen shots where my poems appear on this world wide web just to have the history for my self – kept in a box at the bottom of a closet.

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roadside diner,
a dollar for bitter coffee.
I want the hard rain.
I want the long rain,
HARD on my shoulders and face
with hands stuffed in pockets
clutching three dollars.
I want the drowning rain,
pooling underneath
walking feet. Running
shoes cleaned and soaking;
peregrination of two miles
in a Chicago summer,
toward a phone call, paper towels
and over-extracted coffee.
– Hoc Scripsi 


5 Comments to “coffee”

  1. Hmm, “phone call, paper towels”, interesting. I love your poetry, always makes me ponder.

  2. Iced chai yes, soy no. Give me almond milk, oat milk, rice milk…anything but soy.

  3. I now see a large dirt parking lot, maybe a telephone booth on one end…


  4. Sounds lonely…
    I like my coffee hot, luke warm, or even cold.

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