The coffee? It’s good. The aftermath
of it, the flavor that stays with you? It’s
good. All of it is good, stays with you,
is satisfying — that’s enough. You can sit
for hours with it and it will be enough
to hold you. What is fair about this? Nothing
and everything — you could sit for hours
with it, immobile as you are, and rotted things
and intact items will rise up unchanging
before you; there will be roses of incredible
perishable loveliness and then the letter will come
with its tale of tax debt and ruin
and still you will sit with stolid loveliness intact
and you will say, shrug voiced, not solemn:
amen. This is good coffee. I think another cup
is in order for the good of my health and the world.