Hardly any words spoken since 5pm. I lay on the couch with the second cup of coffee for the evening. The strong smell of Lavazza has been keeping me going for the past 2 hours. There were several thoughts that had crossed my mind and Frazier was not keeping me busy for some reason today…
What’s in that cup of coffee I asked?
there is a bitter taste down my throat
my tongue taste more like the bottom portion of a coffee plunger
a promises that came while adding brown sugar
to the small pleasures of my life
there’s a sketch of half nude woman
with hair long and dark like the warm brownie served bubbling in chocolate syrup.
She sat at the brim of her chair
Stirring thoughts of what will come when she reaches home
when she enters the kitchen to find the fridge stinking
of food that was 4 days old.
When the floor will be stained with take-aways
When the memories of wonderful gourmet food
will reside only in nostalgia…
Oh yes the taste of lavazza reminds of nights by the rivers and endless stories woven to be produced in some years to come. Some stand as such stark photo frames in my head, while other are like sheets handwritten scripts in ink washed away in the rain.
While coffee keeps my brain burning with a few hundered shots that are yet to be taken in well lit production sets, I am glad there something called a blog that helps me pen down these half written/thought ideas that can be opened up someday to turn into a wonderful saga of memories…