The daybreak shines through my window
The light a blanket upon my body
Rise and to my French Press I go
For my morning sip and swig of coffee
I scoff at the Starbucks down the street
What of Coffee Bean? Please, don’t make me laugh!
I am man enough to make my own
But to drink a whole pot is a feat
I cannot hold an entire carafe
My stomach has shrunk as I’ve grown
But that’s why I love you, oh my French Press
You make enough for only one
Grounds and some salt to aid with bitterness
Hot water and pour, then I’m done!
Gay. Poems are gay. Art is gay.