Cups of Coffee

May 21, 2011 | 1 Comment

Often, he would awake at 2 AM. It was getting to be a standard. Awake. Unable to go back to sleep. Get up, throw the clothes on. Try to attain a level of awakeness that would get him out to the kitchen and the old electric coffee perc. Plug it in. Turn on the radio for noise. Company. Old memory-laden songs. The pot chugged and gurgled. Pour the first cup–add cream and sugar. Go out on the front porch in the darkness to smoke. Twinkling stars and yellow-white streetlights. Dark houses holding back their secrets. He would wonder at those times. What had the world shared with him? Reality? A teasing set of fantasies it would later slap him in the face with? The part about the vagaries of time had absolutely been a joke that the universe laughed at.

More coffee.




1 Comment so far

  1. Margaret Machine on August 19, 2011 1:22 PM

    I learned a lot from this post, great help for me, thank you!

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