i’ve gotten really into drinking robusta coffee,
not for any particular reason,
or at least, the reason is kinda dumb and i’d rather not go into it,
but if you insist,
i’ve been drinking robusta, rather than arabica,
because everyone crows on and on about how great and wonderful
arabica is and how horrible robusta is,
and i’m a bit of a contrarian,
so i figured i’d drink my caffeine as a please,
no matter the species!
my cat threw up because she got too excited about her new food and ate too fast,
but i forgot to throw on some socks, so i accidentally stepped in her vomit
before realizing that she got sick in a small puddle in the kitchen.
it rained last night, might still be raining, i don’t know, i can’t find my raincoat,
and even if i could, i don’t think i’d wear it because i don’t like the feel of the material,
but whenever it rains, at least one or two frogs find their way to the back patio door,
and my cat has a field day staring at them, studying their movement and behavior,
almost like a furry herpetologist that will convey her theories
for a few chin scratches and rock-lobster-flavored treats,
though hopefully she won’t eat them too fast
a girl named jackie looks into the mirror,
though she doesn’t see herself,
at least not anymore,
not for a long time,
not since perhaps she was seven years old
and was looking forward to going to an equestrian camp
in new england, where she met her first crush, vincent,
whom she shared a dry kiss behind the stables
while the other kids galloped about
in the air with no seatbelts
Fred Aiken Writing 