I woke this morning with
the taste of acid in my
mouth and The Girl
From Ipanema on my
mind.
I know why I have heartburn,
that’s all about poor eating
choices and feeling a little stomach
disheveled throughout the day
but I don’t know why
the girl from Ipanema
was in on my mind.
I couldn’t recall the last time
I heard the song but there
it was, playing over and over
in my head as I bemoaned
my burning esophagus.
I figured when I got
to work a cup of
coffee would help to
sooth the constant
burning (I don’t know
why I thought it would help,
I just did) but the coffee
was worse. Bad, burned,
long standing coffee,
not tall and lovely at all.
I would gladly give the girl
from Ipanema
my heart, as the lyrics go,
if it would take this
heartburn and bad
coffee away.
I’d rather be relaxing with her
in a hammock on a beach
with a soothing ocean breeze
blowing over us as a phone rings
in the distance that neither of
us has to answer.
That’s the cure for my
kind of heartburn.
The coffee, that can
be fixed with a more
fruity and alcohol
based mix. With an
umbrella.
Coffee never comes with
a little umbrella. It’s just
a cup of sludge, with cream and
sugar and it won’t cure
heartburn.
The Girl From Ipanema
and I, in a hammock
swaying in the tropical
breeze, the roaring ocean
crashing gently along the beach
lined coast of the fringes
of my imagination.
Where I don’t have
heartburn, or the need
for coffee. Just her soft
hands running over my
forehead and hair,
swinging in the silent
relaxation.
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