Another Coffee, please?
I’m I walked to the North, where the cold winds churned like feet turn fruit to wine, crushing the red blood from the trees, from the earth, the skies blustering and blooming with frost. I held my arms up in the timeless hail of all things, where everything is welcomed. I spake the cautious words:
“CAN I HAVE ANOTHER COFFEE PLEASE?”
And the North Winds shuddered, the earth all around cringed inside its frozen grasp. “Girl,” whispered the wind, “It is like 4:30, don’t you think you’ve had enough for one day?”
I shut my eyes. I turned away.
I walked to the East, where a murder of crows were bathing in a mountain crag, their sleek black feathers freckled with dew. They looked at me with their black eyes, held within them the infinite knowledge of a thousand thousand lives. I bowed before them, offering a prepackaged serving size of unsalted almonds from Trader Joe’s that I keep in my desk drawer.
“CAN I HAVE JUST ONE MORE COFFEE, BROTHERS?”
The Crow King let fly a throaty caw. His neck was the deepest black of space, and galaxies and supernovas swirled within it on their own exotic plane. Spoke the Crow King to me, “Did you know that cutting down on caffeine might help with your anxiety?”
I closed my eyes. The Crow King, too, was full of bullshit. Don’t talk to me about anxiety, Crow King. You’re a fucking crow.
I followed a crippling ripplet of stream down to the South, to the deep muddy waters there, baking in the midday heat. The bog rolled and stank as beings old and new fluttered within, drawn to its mysterious funk. I kneeled in the olive earth, the squelching beneath my knees was a joyous welcome.
“JUST ONE MORE? JUST A GRANDE? WHAT IF I BREWED MY OWN?”
And the bog birthed one gathering bubble fueled from its molten guts, and when the bubble exploded in a glorious belch, the words reigned down upon me, “Have you ever tried green tea? Its organic, and it has antioxidants.”
I stood, and tenderly brushed the mud from my knees. No I’m not going to drink fucking green tea. If I wanted tepid bitter water I would just have that. Barf me into oblivion. I bid adieu to the guardians of the bog and peaced THE FUCK out.
I came to the West, I knew it by its parched land, the hills erupting from the ground like the dorsal fins of a race of giant, slumbering lizards. There where scarabs rolling in the red clay, the shimmering glass of their backs flashing in the midday sun. Around us was a cloud of settling dust, and I sat within it.
“I JUST NEED ONE MORE COFFEE, AND THEN I’LL GET THINGS DONE.”
The scarabs abandoned their bath and surrounded me, crawling on my arms and legs, a million tiny hands upon my person. They whispered in my ear, “Empty calories, empty calories, empty calories”. I shook them off – they fell to the cracked earth, then took to the air in a massive cloud of velvety greenish blueish metal. For a moment, they covered the sun, casting me in darkness, and then, just ask quickly – they were gone.
I looked at my hands, rough with the days travel. I still had not a sip of coffee. I had asked the Northern Winds, and the Crow Guardians of the East, and the Boglands of the South, and the Red Clay Scarabs of the West – and not a one had given me leave. Not a one had taken my plight seriously.
But then I remembered!!!!!!!!!!!! That I do what I want!!!! And do we let a bunch of birds or some dirt get in our way when we want something?
Like, no? Absolutely not.
So slammed a Treinta latte,
and had the best afternoon ever.
May you be forever blessed!