Au.
Two letters tells much.
atomic number seventy-nine,
radiant clumps of gold.
In the kitchen, however, it is
the color of my ever caffeinated eyes
swirling cardamom into morning coffee,
improvised into existence
for the fourth early morning in a row.
simple addiction.
if only I measured and ground them
in a way that made a good cup
like my father taught me.
Unfortunately,
my father
Is also an engineer.
Such he also taught me
improvisation,
meddling, and
frightful experimentation.
Coffee was the problem.
A puzzle.
A stressless playground
where failure meant maybe just a terrible latte.
So,
I learned the art of coffee making
the way I learned how to science.
It bled into care,
for my mother’s plants,
for my unsuspecting undercaffeinated friends,
and for myself.
and after every round, a
small beaker full of coffee is produced.
It started taught,
Routine, simple, tasteless,
Boredom led to experimentation
A philosophy, small care,
A performance, storytelling, connection,
Dreams and a near golden cup,
I’ll keep going.
Even if it means that my kitchen,
is now on fire.