Independence is overrated
I suppose I have the power to do it on my own
But why struggle
When I can have help.

The container is important
Tall and enclosed
Imported from Seattle by the brother I miss
Small and smooth
From the friend who noticed my longing glances
Printed with a bird
Long-lasting memory of experiences now past.

I default to black
A point of pride I suppose
Cloaked in fondness for my father
But some mornings
I reminisce
With the cream and the sugar.

I love it best with a friend
On a Friday
Which once was Thursday
A necessary reminder that stable points
Can remain firm as they move.

It all started with Friends
And an apartment with three chairs.
Five months of lingering mornings
That can’t be repeated
But whose shadows shimmer in the steam
And the warmth
Every time I drink.


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