Art Walk

 Coffee Stains

*A haiku about coffee*

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I find a certain comfort in coffee that's difficult to explain. I guess it just reminds me of home, and a sense of safety runs through my veins. It’s as if I could be surrounded by strangers in an unknown city in an unknown place, and if someone were to put a coffee in my hands, I’d be okay. I’d be calm, unstoppable. Clear minded and able to take down anyone or anything. Now that’s a lot to put on just a highly caffeinated drink, and I may have exaggerated a bit. But the feeling is real.

I’m a klutz, I get in a rush and don’t pay attention enough to not have a million coffee stains on all of my clothes and floors. But I’m not angry, yeah it’s embarrassing and sometimes an inconvenience, but now it’s truly mine. Now I have another shirt to wear in the house while drinking coffee and being lazy. How am I supposed to enjoy coffee if I were to fret about every little consequence that may come with it? That is how Americans are right? Ignore the harsh realities and burdens that come with the toxic things we love and do. So I guess I’m American and as ignorant as the rest of the population. But damn coffees good.