The life of a disposable coffee cup

(as told by a disposable coffee cup)

Standing

on top of each other,

waiting.

Until a warm touch

fills you with hope.

Hands,

heat,

hands, different hands.

Lips.

Kisses,

kisses,

kisses,

more kisses.

And then you’re empty,

alone

and cold.

Forever.

-

3am

One hour,

two faces:

tangling anxiety

or endless possibilities.

Like a coin toss

the outcome is always random.

Embrace it.

-

Yawns

Daily reminders

that we can all become ugly,

at any point,

unexpectedly.

-

Music

It brings back

places,

people,

moods

and moments.

The closest we’ve got

to time travel.

-

Tears

When they appear

with violence

like a storm

they clear the air.

For a moment

silence takes over

and I feel

like a little boy again.

-

Brothers and sisters

Human beings

connected

by memories

of a time

they can’t remember.

-

Autumn

As we get dressed

trees get naked,

in style.

They put their best costume on

then slowly and gently strip before us.

Clearly,

burlesque was invented

by Mother Nature.

-

A photographic intermission

-

Green tea

Stillness

of the body

as I watch my thoughts

playing with each other

to the rhythm

of a newfound

muted heart.

-

Confessions of a clothes chair

I have no idea

how I ended up like this.

Yes, act of service

is my love language,

but there’s a limit.

I can’t see shit

and mostly 

I can’t breathe!

I really wish I was a glass,

or a mug.

Hugged,

kissed,

bathed.

Daily.

Carried around,

treated with care,

respected.

Seen.

-

Winds

Like Greek gods

we can rule the winds.

Sometimes.

Winds that can be

fast and cold,

or slow and warm.

Producing sound,

or olfactory experiences.

Or both,

poking the nose

and poking the ear.

Their invisible presence

can be unpredictable, too.

Out of our control.

Can fill a room

with laughter

or fear.

-

Morning run

Trading an hour of sleep

and less than a pound of sweat

for endorphins,

agility

and redemption.

Plus something to brag about

until noon.

-

The sacrifice of the onion

Exposed and motionless,

death shines above its head.

Facing destiny

with the kind of dignity

that belongs to a stoic.

The blade drops.

One becomes two

then rat-a-tat-tat

rat-a-tat-tat

rat-a-tat-tat.

Over and over.

Silence.

A crime scene

never looked so peaceful.

The slayer’s weeping,

that’s what it’s all about.