coffee shop window
old couple watches
lives rushing by


7 thoughts on “1048

  1. Too bad I drink but 3 cups a year. Razor-sharp mind delivers what your soft eye scanned: from inside looking out or verse-visa? Not a big window-watcher (or washer), but thanks, Juice, for the frozen moment giving me smile.

  2. Methinks I am exchanging verbal swipes with Samuel Johnson and his ilk in ancient coffee houses of London. Not a connoisseur. … I’ll drink any tepi d brown water. ..Florida has a few coffee growers…this brief poetry form we do sometimes benefits from vagueness. ..

  3. My sister-in-law Jeanne grew a big coffee tree in her Sanford backyard (now our office where I let the garden grow). She got the seeds – oddly enough from Sorrento, a country burg just West of Snaffurd in freeze-prone Lake County which gradually is becoming Orlando North, complete with Rats with hands out to take your money. The freeze of 89 finished off what the freeze of 82 started. In its place now is a big – 40-foot or more Florida Avocado. I conn sewers quite well, Sir Bruce: but without additives alcoholic like cheap Irish whiskey or good Bourbon like Maker’s Mark, I cannot fathom drinking dirty-dark water…and then some people compound the outrage with sugar AND cream! I mean, after all, it’s a bitter brew and why adulterate it to sweet and light? And, yes, the vagaries of brevity begats darkly our looking glasses. But pour in some hootch in mine, si vous plait. The capture of the old couple paints epic movies – how long have they been addicted to each other, to coffee, do they touch hands reaching to fill their lives and empty their cups. What a marvelous movie you paint with those few words.

  4. More of a penciled scribble than a movie but thank you for the compliment. As regards my caffeine addiction, I’m a black straight kinda guy… I suspect any male of effeminate behavior if they sully the liquid of the bean with mammary gland secretions and/or sugar. Keeps life simple, and just too lazy to fiddle with frivolities. Have similar feelings about alcohol … hardly touch the stuff but almost always whiskey straight with the occasional Asahi beer….which Japanese cattle raisers give their cows to drink … your selection of my stuff will appear in one form or another, probably somewhat similar to the Failed Haiku page on my site …appreciate you doing that…

  5. And I though those Kobe cows just got massaged with the beer…Had a piece long ago…was beautiful at which to look, tender as a baby’s smile but as flavorful as…well, as nothing else. How did they managed to get all the taste out of that Filet Mignion, even moreso than the usual Angus or Hereford kinds of a cut which I choose not of my own volition. I take my Americano or my even less-usual espresso without adulteration as well…and my several effeminate male acquaintances – but not oddly not their “Butch” companions – remark that I should “try one of theirs.” Thanks, no. The gay girls I know split half-n-half with black or fruity. Now that near septigenarianism(sp?) approaches all it takes is two – and if real slow-drunk possibly three and I am done for that day – or two or three and I always seem to have been that way: binge with the boys – 20 beers in 20 hours while they sleep off their sprint start of a sixpack in 17 minutes (it seems) and then leave a half-case cooling its lovely heels in the lower reefer shelf for a month or more. I once found a quarter pound – tinfoiled and vacuum-sealed in the freezer with an 18-month date-of-internment on its outer sarcophagus so I think the principal extends. It’s just as well I drink beers that age – en table as it were – because in the midst of a book or a write often I forget to sup or quaff. And any drowned ‘squito be just free protein.

  6. And with the publication of the poignant-yet-funny 1049 – forget Failed Haiku’s lessons concerning what the melding of one photo and one haiku called – do I sense a thematicness? Really nice job, Juice!

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