The Metaphysics of Coffee

Lebrecht History / Bridgeman Images

And now it seems

you come to me in sentences.

Early in our love,

you arrived as a sudden flash.

A cryptic collection of crowded words,

gnostic letters,

rhythmic beams.

Now it seems

you have less to share,

but more to say.

And today,

we have breakfast in Vienna.

You speak endlessly about coffee,

as I stare at your hands.

And I know.

I know,

none of this is appropriate.

It is clear to me I have departed

the very last residues of orthodoxy.

And it would be pointless to explain

that I neither fashioned these clouds,

nor anticipated this rain.

The secret of this universe

is now sitting across from me,

glowing in a white dress.

Did you know,

she asks,

there was coffee

long before there were coffee beans?

And now it seems.