Black Coffee

The coffee was black with a smooth brown yellow froth over it, bubbles on the surface parted the froth to reveal the existence of the black beneath. The froth, I always tell my self will talk to me about the mornings I spent in the woods of the St.Xavier's College sipping black coffee on a yellow chair. The man at the counter knows that he has to add two cubes of sugar for this tall dark guy who comes for morning coffee. I use a straw to stir the coffee, the froth, before I pierce it with a straw, looks so beautiful that I almost manage to convince my self of the sin I commit by not letting it be a virgin and stirring the beauty out of it. As I stir the golden brown froth swirls on the surface to become the shade of light brown, it accumulates into neat circular eddies, the thinning of it tells me of the two sugar cubes being put to good use. I take my first sip to feel the electric impulses travel through my nerves like water under pressure flowing through kinky pipes.

Come up and feel the sun,
A new morning has begun,
another day will make it clear,
why your stars should guide us here.

Mark Knofler, Sailing to Philadelphia