Coffee, Cream & the End

Too much cream in my coffee,

not enough coffee in my cream.

In three days the world is

supposed to end and I’m

thinking about French Vanilla.

I like my morning coffee and

if the world is soon to end,

I’d really like to enjoy at least

a few good morning cups.

Without the powdered creamer.

The Mayans had coffee that much

is clear. They didn’t exactly use

it like we do. There’s some evidence

they used it in enemas for religious

purposes. That’ll wake you up.

Rectum? Damn near killed ‘em.

If the world does decide to end

on Friday, if our lease is up and

renovations are needed to clean

up the mess we made, then so

be it.

I’ll try to enjoy my coffee and

make due with the cream while

fire erupts from giant fissures

under my feet. I’ll try not to

scream or beg for mercy.

I may shed a tear for the loves I had

and the loves unrequited. I may

regret no smiling children of my

own, but find relief they weren’t

here to see the end.

I’ll wish for one sweeter kiss.

I’ll consider that last screw.

I’ll think of all this wasted

paper with a sense of loss.

I’ll try not to wish for just one

more cup of freshly brewed coffee.

Maybe I’ll just have tea.