Kahlua and Coffee, Midnight Weary:
Coffee beans and midnight dreary,
Fresh the grinds, and moi, so weary,
Yet I praise the gods I’m not
As I have been, overwrought.
Spiked in honor of a goal –
Where the hell’s the stripper’s pole?
Ah, the heat of bean and K,
This, the beat and pulse of play,
Now I feel the rip and wander
Of my thoughts that stir and ponder
Moving this and hiking that,
Hips a-saunter, haunting hat
Glittering from times afar
In pasts and lives where worries are
No longer present in this mix
Of fire + devil’s dance and fix –
Now I’m on my second shot
(Shooting K, would that be “hot?”)
OH! I love this rich aroma
Coffee bean (and soon a coma?) –
Shit, this stuff is forty proof!!
Where’s a man, who’s not aloof
While I’m here, alone, at home
As imaginings will roam
Up and down the limbs that dangle
Wanting to be in a tangle
With another’s sexy verse
Rhyming, criming, never terse…
Yes, the odes to moms and more!
Momaloms have moms galore!
And they tease the wanton spirit
Out of hiding (do not fear it) –
Thus, we lusty middle agers
Need to carry sex-call pagers
So that these oft missed small hours
Might be greeted with male towers
Which, should memory preserve,
Lively welcome, do deserve.
Now, I sip my splendid third,
Lubricating thought and word,
Blessed brilliant coffee bean,
Lips and tongue, enhance the scene,
Offering a tender taste,
Then another (let’s not waste)!
OUI, I am a happy drinker,
Though the next day is a stinker!
Still, beloved coffee magic,
Life with all that can be tragic
Calls to us from time to time
To dip into recall, sublime,
Conjuring from bolt and thunder
Streams of raucous, rowdy plunder!
Now I must sip brew once more,
Then some water, lest the door
Be thrown open (God it’s hot)
And the Fuller Brush Man (NOT)
Might be in for more than wanted
(Hopefully, he’d come undaunted),
AND hélas I fear I just
Cast another clue of lust
Still alive among the folds
Of wimmins some would say are olds!
NOT the case; we simply soften,
Hungry, avidly and often
For the splendid coffee bean
dark and hard and long and lean,
Swollen, vibrant, apt to preen,
Ah, les gourmandises I’ve seen…
Thus I shall unbutton blouse,
Fan and wander, hot, my house,
This, a bristling heat that fills
(Lowering electric bills) –
OH DEAR GOD, now number FOUR
Yes, I manage this last pour,
Warmly wanting to speak French,
Whisper: take me off the bench –
Oui, j’adore qu’un homme me prenne
Les yeux de braise, et moi, l’haleine
qui coupe, commence, ensuite, chaleur
dont j’avoue, je n’ai pas peur…
And supposing I need pillows
As the room, it turns and billows –
I shall lay my spinning head
K and coffee, yes, the bed –
Dreamy, creamy, gentle smiles,
Always part of comely styles.
But, the aspirin, can I find it?
Yes, some sleep, I shall not mind it.