"you felt like you were disappearing every time you crossed a road." - The Catcher in the Rye, by J D Sallinger
Coffee doesn’t smell like lilacs, love.
We sip it on good mornings, gulp on bad,
Devour it through lips and pores
and greedy nostrils in personal peril—
in the kitchen on oak chairs,
we forge introspection with a diamond-cutter.
We never sip our coffee, love.
And, that’s the secret after all.
You told me once you’d never been sure
you believed in ghosts,
but were less sure you could deny them
as they clawed at the sand scraping your soles.
You were on the road to Texas, and you left your mug with me.
Did the lilacs smell like coffee beans
as you passed through Illinois?
Did the sky melt down the wildberries?
Tell me, did your first November cry?
You slept under the overpass in San Antonio, one fall.
That freckle-grinned boy called me from a truck stop.
Said, “The java here’s no good,” and other such sweet things.
Does he tell you that your beautiful
by your abandon railways and a sunset?
And, does he love you with the praire grass each spring?
Well, coffee doesn’t smell like lilacs, love.
And, I know your feet were cold
at the end of that road
in the Rockies
when you just would not
phone home.
Author notes
Option 6, I believe
A contest entry
- Yummy Literary Quotes to feed your muse (OPEN TO ALL!) by Melee Vau.
1000 points, ended November 13, 27 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Seriously, bring it. Be cruel. I like it.
Comments
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Coffee, Coffee
Coffee! It represents a thousand little cafe's and stops i have frequented when I have been on the road. And it is only now after reading this that I now know what the aroma of coffee reminds of after all these years.
Good descriptive writing and Lilacs, lilacs???? Insperational
well done and good luck.
Dave
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This is heartbreakingly personal. It moved me to tears to think of not getting that phone call. And the cold feet. Lovely, but so sad.
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on the road again...
I am gorged on the imagery and satiated with your perfect phrases-
"we forge introspection with a diamond-cutter"
that's pretty magic!
and I realy like the lines:
"You told me once you’d never been sure
you believed in ghosts,
but were less sure you could deny them
as they clawed at the sand scraping your soles. "
a great analogy of life - seized by the kilometer no matter how sweet or bitter, and never sipped.
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Coffee does not smell like lilacs-it smells like a thousand morning's wondering what to say, thinking that this might finally be the day. Coffee is life, basically bitter, but you can have a bit of sweetness and light to it if you desire to. Having spent a bit of time as a road warrior I can relate to a bit of this. I have spent the night in Vail pass, the mojave, and many other places around the country seeking solitude, I could never escape myself though.
Generally the worst coffee I have ever had was in Georgia, wonder what that means.
The ghosts of self created history abound in this land we call home.
Nice view,
Peace
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