Time blows away.
Head hurts like drinking days.
Taking so long to make coffee,
not the brewer but me to get it ready.
Cleaning the basket,
skipping heating the pot,
it takes too long.
The evergreen, the old toy tree,
the now stately king, is brilliant this morning,
shining in a fluorescent dance.
It takes so long and the green pains my eyes.
This is not what I want.
Taking too long,
the beans are ground
in fifteen seconds,
but the flakes are floating in every
mild spot on the counter
and it will take so long to pour
new grounds into the filter
in the basket without adding
to the messy counter.
The evergreen crawls inside me,
scraping the fungus inside my skin
and grinding my nerves
to nothingness.
When I finally push the button
to brew, relieved that coffee will be here soon,
and while I wait,
I’ll look for medicines
that will mend my broken wires.