#60: June 22, 2006

Bad office coffee feels like engine oil,
As hot as if it just came through the block;
It tastes just like twice-turned, wildfire-burned soil,
Pissed on and strained through a sweaty gym sock.

I slurp it down and shiver as a cat
Creeps over the site of my future grave;
It hits me like a fist, makes my tongue fat
And dries up all my spit. I must be brave--

For the alternative is no caffeine
(Discounting cups of tea and Diet Coke;
Undercaffeination just makes me mean),
And that's no alternative--that's a joke.

So instead of going through life at half-speed,
I suckle at the sour black teat of need.