COFFEE TASTES ME

"I hate that when there are no other people in the room and you're like no way I didn't see that but there's no one to confirm what you just saw. You know I just hate that !!" His eyes bulge out of his head when he speaks as though they want to jump out of his skull and participate as independents in the conversation. As though they're dumbfounded at the stupidity of the brain behind them.

The stupid man and mildly more intelligent woman are sitting across from one another at a tiny table on the patio of a coffee shop. They fail to notice the fact that the brick wall across the street breathes gently. They are engaged in conversation.

He takes a sip of coffee and it tastes his lips and tongue. The coffee is satisfied as it doesn't taste his stupidity. You can't taste stupidity. You perceive stupidity, stupid.

The coffees on their table savour the slow process of becoming diminished. The coffees don't say anything to each other. They are on their first date too but they are comfortable in their silence. They will exist beautifully for their ten minutes of life. Aloof and graceful and dark brown.

I sit across from them, soak everything in and let the drugs inside of me take their course. I document how people fail to commune with coffee as they should. In spite of the drugs inside of me people will understand my point. People will nod and say, yes we love coffee. It's true.

Stupid people must stop drinking coffee.