Mocha Latte Day

It was a mocha latte day. Iced.
It was a really good day.
Do you realize
what kind of day
brings a normal man to purchase
a frivolous five dollar beverage?

Anyway, the sun was blazing
and I was listening to some fine
ambiguous pop music on the car’s radio.

Driving down I-75. Two-lane I-75.

Then, some fucker in one of those little
foreign job cars with the lackluster horsepower
and mosquito exhaust cut me off
so
that
I spilled the delicious mocha latte,
the five dollar mocha latte,
that’s 46.66 cents per ounce!
All over myself.

I was pissed!
No directional.
No respect for others.
I mashed my foot to the floor but the traffic
had closed me in.

I could see the little mother-fuck weaving
in and out of the traffic far in front of me.
Zig –
Zag –
Brake lights.

He was pissing a lot of people off.

Then, a miracle from God happened.
Finally! A prayer had been answered!
The fucker had lost control of his car
and was now in the grass on the right shoulder
of I-75.

The car began to flip and deflate.
It turned over and over and then
the fucker’s own body came away from the wreckage.
It was a beautiful triple Lundy.
What grace! What form!
And then he smashed to the ground
fifty feet from the twisted metal that was once his car.

The traffic came to a screeching halt.
I came to a screeching halt, got out and ran.
RAN as fast as I could to get to the
broken man as quickly as I could.

I did reach him first because
I didn’t stop to dial 911 on my cell phone.
As I reached the man he was moaning.
His body was busted.

It was the strangest thing I’d ever witnessed.
His heart lay outside his body still thumping.
Thumping like it was doing some good but
it was just squirting his life force all around
the dirt in which he lay.

I bent down really close to him.
Not to help him.
Not to console him.
Not to offer my hand as he left this world.

This world of ambiguity and of over-priced beverages.
This caffeine nation.
I asked him, “does it hurt? Does it hurt, fucker?”
I screamed, “ARE YOU IN PAIN?”

And the man, bless his heart (pun intended), nodded yes.
And I stood, turned and went back to my car.
There was some iced mocha latte left.
“Mmmm, delicious,” I found myself saying out loud.
The sun was warm.
The sky was blue.
And I felt free.
I sucked on my five-dollar mocha latte.
Got into my car and continued my journey.

It was the most beautiful mocha latte day ever.

The Baggage

On days like today that baggage
becomes nearly impossible to carry.
I’m weighted down with feelings
of inadequacy
and failure.
There’s nothing for me
and few people give a damn.

I loathe going into society.
Of knocking on doors.
And eating fast food.
On days like today I’d rather
gouge out the eyes of humanity
and watch them suffer.
You did this to me.

It’s your blood that has tainted me.
Your blood courses a desperate madness.
It boils over and when it does
sometimes takes days to cool down.
And you’ve left me no answers.
I only question and grow panicked
because I fear the answers.

So, I scream and gouge at my own eyes.
I weep silently in the shower
and pray for a gentle cancer.
The seatbelt light warns as
I veer towards the maple.
It’s a beautiful killing tree, I think.
But I turn back at the last moment.

Because your blood runs through my veins.
I pray that you don’t suffer what I suffer.
I hope the dilution is evident in a mind
so young and vulnerable.
It’s a small, yet consuming, baggage.
I gladly carry it for you but sometimes
the trip becomes entirely too long.

And I grow weary.

One day, soon, you’ll need to put a hand
on the baggage.

BACK