coffee to stay

mes amis–

do you ever feel like you’re the only person without a coffee cup in hand in the a.m.? i know that i sometimes do.

people and their to go coffee

in the early dawn hours [ie. 9:45 am] as i ride the metro, i inevitably marvel at the variety of sizes and colors of coffee cups i see. there seems to be as much multiplicity in these drinking vessels as the faces who hold them! these coffee cup holders wear expressions of smug fatigue, worn fatigue, depressed fatigue, nervous fatigue and sometimes even sexy fatigue. (i don’t know what you did with your sunday evening, sir! but if looks could tell…)

but what was the cause of your insomnia, sir?

today was a particularly presto morning pour moi, as i had one of those yearly doctor check up appointments where, if you are lucky, you spend all of 20 minutes in the office. a mere 5 of which are passed whilst wearing a gown of some distinctive hane-wah (that’s heinous, to you) hue.

designed by the color blind

allora, upon exiting the medical building (and feeling a slight pang of guilt over everything i do wrong, medically speaking) i popped over to one of those little street carts. all i had was change but the coffee vendor informed me his swill was a mere dollar. parfait!

coffee for 100 cents? mai sentito!

“no, i will not have milk or sugar this mattina, rather serve it up black, please. to match my soul!” i told the proprietor. we shared a hearty chuckle and i was handed my purchase. having a number of bags to juggle i put the coffee down and instantly the napkins that come with to go coffee flew into the wind. i scampered to wrangle them before they became litter. leaving my cup unattended. what if a stranger put an early morning roofie into it?! one never knows in the big city…

drink up!

i marched to le metro. a hot flash over took me! is coffee always this toasty? i wondered. i switched the coffee vessel to another hand juggling more bags atop me shoulders. like an urban sherpa i was.

i began to fret as i walked down the subway steps. what of a spill? more fretting when passing through the turnstile. the thing about people who hold their coffee cups is that they never seem to drink from them! they are just another accessory to tote like a miniature dog peeking out of a purse. or a tote bag with the mostess!

jolted–but not jilted–on the subway i lurched forward. sneaking a sip here and there. but, in order to achieve a sip, my posture resembled some scoliosis patient. hmph! i finally arrived at the office where i spend my mondays through fridays with a warm coffee cup in hand, sat at my desk, and sipped in silence.

a bientot,
kippy

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