We lose the world in doing so

The Lies Of Coffee

Tipping the cup back it whispers,
like a clever snake in a perfect tree:
Everything will be alright.

Of course it will, even if we
lose the world in doing so,
says the warm trembling palm.

Liquid pilgrim enter the temple,
throw yourself against ice-marbled
lakes, the mislaid promises left there.



We watch the red wound of the
coming day as the white balm
of the full night falls dead away.

Sip by sip, grounds percolate in
the desert of the soul, leave dunes
to worry themselves unseen.

These are the lies of black coffee
and hashish, the worn paths that
vanished long before you lost them.

Setting the empty cup down to
be washed, it spills all it holds:
Somehow, everything will be alright.

Joseph Gallo
November 10, 2011