All I need to know.

by William Pauley III

Coffee black.
Sugar for taste.
I never trust a man who drinks his coffee black,
a taste so bitter only the tongues of the wicked could ever enjoy.

Sitting again in this broken down café
Sifting for life… in the eggs,
in the bacon.
in this dirty coffee mug.
With any feeling of love, hope, joy as burnt as the side of toast.

I watch as you mindlessly stir your oatmeal,
Your bowl runneth over,
With your eyes hopelessly glued to a hanging television flickering visions of oil and war and death and greed and terror, terror, terror.
We’ve let it get to us, babe.
We’ve allowed the darkness into our lives.
I miss you.
I miss us.

I look again at my untouched plate thinking of the day I’d be too old to eat a meal this hearty.
I pick up a knife and apply a thick coat of butter to the black toast.
I take a bite.
I look at you.
And with a mouthful I say, “I love you.”
You turn your eyes to me.
You say “I love you, too.” and smile.

And that’s all I need to know.