Saturday morning,
The regular coffee is fresh,
Flavorful, more so than normal,
Maybe I’m paying more attention,
Since everything is so wrong right now,
That my brain is recalibrating,
Taking stock, losing its acceptance
Of the cushy life, the rat race,
Training, competitive spirit,
If for only the time it takes
To savor this regular coffee.

Saturday morning,
The skies are gray,
Lighter than before a storm,
Maybe I’m more discerning of grayscale
Since everything is so wrong right now,
My appreciation for the subdued light
Rising with the hope for rain
To wash the pollen away
Creating little currents of yellow
That will allow my eyes to stop itching
And my nose to stop running.

Saturday morning,
The same as Friday morning,
The fresh coffee indulgence,
They non-committal sky,
Mindfulness and allergies,
Each there just like yesterday
As new routines and habits
Become the new way.
Today will pass with another month
Of Saturdays
Before the old way returns.

Rain is falling, again,
I can’t say I mind
Because I’m hoping people will shelter
Staying away from the places
That might put others at risk.

I broke the rules this morning,
Letting the forecast schedule my workout
Which was okay
Since I committed to riding inside
Instead of pounding the pavement.

The course was out in Cali,
Posted to YouTube and there I was riding
At twenty-eight virtual miles per hour
Jostling for position, until at the end
It was obvious, the camera rider’s soul was gone.

Mine, too, sort of,
Since I tried to match the pace as best I could
On my spinning bike.
Limited to rpm comparisons,
I clocked in at about half the rpm of the soul starved one.

Right about where I thought I’d be,
Half as good as those dudes,
Same as when I run, about half as fast as the fastest,
So I toweled off, changed into dry clothes,
And headed upstairs

Where the coffee was hot, and a sixteen-ounce
Piece of pound cake was waiting for breakfast.
The coffee let loose the flavor of a chunk of ginger
And eventually became a mug of coffee leftovers
Watered down with boiling hot water.

The color of the water gradually going from coffee dark
To water clear and less of a ginger kick with each mug.
Maybe half as strong with each refill,
Perfect for a rainy day,
Watered down.

They walked into the coffee shop
More zombie than human.
They shuffled past all the people,
More invisible than seen.

At least that’s what they were going for.

They ordered online,
Far from the bustle of those waiting in line.
They wanted nothing of the crowd,
All jonesing for the same product.

Coffee, duh.

They grabbed their drinks,
Not so much as a hello,
They sprinted from the store,
Never offering a thank you.

Assholes, hmmm.

The point of a coffee shop is two parts,
Coffee and conversation,
Some sort of human interaction,
Whether or not a person stays or not.

Put the phones away, yo.

Sit down, chat awhile,
Be more human, less zombie,
Shuffle in and become a part of the community,
Zap the apps… Talk to people.

These people I know kill me.
The same ones take care of me.
Often, they have me crying,
Tears of joy,
Tears of laughter,
Tears of pain,
But whatever the result
Their intention is always good.
Mornings are for smiling,
Even when the hills are steep,
The water unforgiving,
Or the pace too fast.

As it should be with friends…

Perspective is perplexing,
Music is relaxing,
Plenty of coffee is “Ex-laxing”
And I’m sitting in a convection oven office
Trying to make sense of
Mental incarceration, and
Any other mmm-mmm bad
Thing that might surf through my brain.

Take perspective,
A walk in the reality of one,
Since we all see things differently,
Through our lens,
In our time, with our emotional makeup,
Under the stresses of our lives.
It’s easy to see how we can be so confused
By the way we are supposed to be
Because the rules are made by those seeing
In way unique to them, foreign to us.

In these days of Rrrrrr,
Political discourse, career apathy,
Self-inflicted physical beatdowns,
The rundown nature of getting on
Tends to taint my outlook on how things are going.
Music soothes, takes on that edge,
With just a little hit on the boombox bong
I melted away without the need for psychoactive properties
Given a little bass, some familiar words, and
I zoomed away from the manstrating mood I found myself in.

Today, Joe Walsh’s, Life’s Been Good To Me, played, it’s
A teenage anthem that never fails to raise my spirit.
Coming through beat up desktop speakers, Joe helped me leave now
Allowing me to drift back to a community gathering where
Big Pioneer speakers added the soundtrack
For a night of shenanigans that
Started a summer adventure
Where for a few weeks
I’d understand the importance
Of patience, pacing, and accepting the impermanence of life.

Maybe the song was the inspiration
For my nostalgic trip back to York County.
Maybe it was the river of coffee that I’d been drinking
Due to the absence of anything stronger
During working hours.
Interestingly, the java didn’t loosen my bowels,
It relaxed my thoughts, allowing those good memories
To flood my present and wash away
The stodgy way of thinking I woke up with.
Perspective, music, and coffee. Ahh…