This morning I drank a giant cup of coffee

This afternoon I drank a giant cup of coffee

Confusing time as transient

Ready to spend my day not living or working , unable to commit to either or both,

Resigned to non-splendor, an

unceremonious torpor.

Two giant coconut-covered mochi crawled into my mouth

They taste

a little bit

like

nothing:

plain, sweet, doughy,

with a treasure at the center: chopped peanuts and sesame seeds, honey and a pinch of salt

This oversaturation of energy left me feeling nauseous, determined never to eat again

Because food is just stuffing

For a piggy like me.

I am:

Wanting for lacking nothing,

Taking for hopes of rescinding.

There is no nourishment or substance beyond substance in you, mochi

There will be lots of visitors over Christmas:

I listen to “In Love, Not Limbo” and remember what it is to be a creature of love

I would like to be a particle

In a wave, an oscillation, maybe not streamlined, which isn’t really the nature of motion: it isn’t moving in a uniform direction but rather an amalgamation of me going a little bit this way and you a little bit that, and all of us ending up in the same place (together)

I fell in love with another creature at the coffee shop

He was dark and unkempt,

Wearing a knit sweater that was big and baggy like anyone else in town,

But he wasn’t much else like someone from this town.

….“agile and clever because …of the melancholy in his eyes”….

He spoke in an accent that was slow and thoughtful, scrawling and slanted, to a girl whose accent was bitterly squeaky

I read about Rasputin and Musa al-Sadr, transposing them with him,

Confounded by the absence of sides to a warped coin, enveloping polarity.

I became fond of unknowing.

When he stared it made me uneasy

But when he left I regretted not talking to him

There will be a time for remembering

Once I have gotten past this present stagnation and ineptitude

But it becomes tedious to live as a cataloguer of the past

Old melodies chafe

And when I succumb to our New Age Fun with a Vintage Feel,

It isn’t my vintage

So it doesn’t matter

(anymore)

-BHN