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Coffee Breath
by John HarderCareful, hot
said the paper cup
but I refused the warnings
and drank it down
A dollar-fifty
of someone else's money
for the java I drank
It's now nowhere to be found
The only remnant
is the burn on my tongue
and the taste in my mouth
Not a beret in sight
nor a slam poet
I don't hear classical
I don't hear rhymes
Just the twang of a steal guitar
quietly fighting to be heard
over the gossip of small towners
in a local coffee shop
10/26/2002 Posted on 10/27/2002
Copyright © 2024 John Harder
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Rommel Cruz on 11/29/02 at 07:47 AM Good thing i dont drink coffee. wait, i drink coffee, but not a lot and never burning hott. mostly iced. =) |
| Posted by Lizz Scott on 12/21/03 at 08:33 PM I hate people who gab when someone is performing...anyway, I liked this. You brought me right in next to you. |
| Posted by Melanie J Yarbrough on 07/06/04 at 04:32 AM an earlier comment said it was messy-- I think that adds to the poem, to the messy hectics of sitting in one room with so many different lives being led at the same time, and the "steal guitar" as sort of a desperating t(r)ying all together. well, that's just what I got out of it... very nice. melanie |
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