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| Poem of the week a day late. |
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| Jan. 27th, 2009 |
08:59 am | |
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Coffee by Maureen O’Connor
I want it hot, a powerful boiling gift to lick my tongue bitter black or sweet smooth with milk, essential like water or life’s blood. I need it to percolate my endorphins, stimulate my senses, caffeinate my sensibilities and wake me, like a good lover. Then it leaves me wanting more, hot.
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4 of the customers - Pour a cup |
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