black coffee

black coffee
in a plastic mug
stuck
to the table

and chairs
hunched around
like gyps bengalensis
watching
waithing
for a sunset

or a sunrise
or the shuffling sounds
of summer days
passing
in little drops of laughter
and love
and freedom
and a foretaste of worry

sing while you can,
little cup.
sing till the dregs
are dried and caked
and are only a stain -
sing, my love
sing because you can.

black coffee