Tuesday, August 1, 2017

One more cup...


(A man for all seasonings)


I cleaned the coffee filter, set it up to make a pot of coffee, pressed the button, walked away listening to it chew up fresh coffee beans and then drop them as a mound of powder into the basket below. When I came back the thing wasn't making its tell-tale percolating sounds. So, I looked - forgot to add water. I did that, pressed the "make coffee" button once more. I heard the sounds of the grinder chewing up the coffee beans again, telling myself that maybe I'd need to "water" this coffee down with extra cream, it being at least double strength now, maybe more. The increased effects of caffeine seem exponential rather than fractional or linear. 

Once the pot was partially done I poured a cup and added a slight bit of sugar, then poured in the cream which immediately curdled. I stared at the spinning mess, a little galaxy in trouble. I dumped the dairy out, rinsed the glass, tried again with the remaining bit of milk that I had left.

The entire process netted me a single cup of strong coffee.

We'll see. Maybe my refrigerator is not cold enough. Industrial products are maddening at their convenient impermanence. It seems that it has never been easier to condemn the things we buy, or things we have bought. A computer analysis (I believe) was done of Bob Dylan's lyrics. The assessment that the computer came back with for the content of his songs was: time passes; love fades. They did the same for Elvis Costello and the result was: your coffee machine will malfunction when you need it the most, cream curdles in the night. 



Your breath is sweet
Your eyes are like two jewels in the sky
Your back is straight, your hair is smooth
On the pillow where you lie

But I don't sense affection
No gratitude or love
Your loyalty is not to me
But to the stars above

One more cup of coffee for the road
One more cup of coffee 'fore I go
To the valley below

Your daddy, he's an outlaw
And a wanderer by trade
He'll teach you how to pick and choose
And how to throw the blade

He oversees his kingdom
So no stranger does intrude
His voice, it trembles as he calls out
For another plate of food

One more cup of coffee for the road
One more cup of coffee 'fore I go
To the valley below

Your sister sees the future
Like your mama and yourself
You've never learned to read or write
There's no books upon your shelf

And your pleasure knows no limits
Your voice is like a meadowlark
But your heart is like an ocean
Mysterious and dark

One more cup of coffee for the road
One more cup of coffee 'fore I go
To the valley below

-Dylan







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