Fred Aiken Writing

August 21, 2023

RANDOM DIXIE CUP

dixie cup full of plasma distilled down
to basic components that lack any more surprise,
and tossed aside for the comforts of speaking
german on a latin wednesday while curling up
in the arm’s of a stranger because that’s what
that one song by that one singer
said to do, too

August 20, 2023

GREEN COFFEE DUST

when i signed up to work at a coffee roastery,
no one told me how much dust there would be,
how much green coffee dust would be kicked up in the air,
thick and unavoidable, like pollen clogging up my
nostrils and throat,
coating my glasses to the point where i can barely see
at the end of the work day,
nor did anyone mention how much green coffee smells
like morning dew percolating in the dawn hours
of a pink sky nurturing jasmine flowers and rosey bushes of berries
being carried down the hillside

thrown into an industrial roaster and cooked to a baked aroma
of peppercorns simmering in yeast,
the aroma catches in the back of my throat,
as i wipe my glasses clean, 
so hopefully i can see my way home

August 19, 2023

DRAGONFLY JUMP ROPES

there’s a dragonfly that watches me jump rope,
and i think the dragonfly is judging me,
laughing at my jump rope technique,
and how much it looks like i’m struggling
to find a rhythm in jumping rope,
though i think i might give up the exercise,
because the dragonfly doesn’t seem to want to give me any advice,
but instead floats off to the side,
listless, careless, fruitless, wandering through my backyard
without a care in the world,
while i can’t jump over one damn rope