My Joe

It goes down smooth
Lightly acidic
But cut with cream
And two teaspoons
Mulched and distilled from
Caribbean cane
It's my friend.

I need it.
Gotta have it.
Can’t do without it.

I can’t use
Corporate Blend
Or
Designer Drip
And don’t give me
Anything mixed with
Mocha
Vanilla
Cinnamon
Or anything else that may lead to
Unpleasantries.

I want the
Old Fashion Grind
That seeks my throat
Like a Hell Fire Missile.

If you present it
In a precious little corrugated sleeve
Or imprinted with art
From the Louvre
There will be difficulties
‘Tween Thee and Me.

Friend
Just pour it in
A chipped ceramic mug
Or a Styrofoam cup
Then place it between my
Jersey-gloved hands.

It’s simple.
Let’s not complicate this.
Brew it
Boil it
Nuke it
I don’t give a Tinker’s damn
How you do it.

Just do it.

Better yet
Get out of my way
And I’ll do it.

Then, give me a moment to
Gulp it down.

When I’m done
We can talk about high prices
Who’s doing what to who
What’s happening when
And where you’re going and why.

I’ll nod
And happily grin at
Everything you say.

But never get between me
And my Joe.