Day Without Coffee

Pastel turnover
behind eyes, pace pastoral
Far cry from the usual staccato
Each thought lingering
well into the next
Though not so long
as to blend beyond telling
Just enough to take the edge off
as they say,
which is exactly it.

Even my blood
seems to have slowed
Veins like streams
feeding their riverbody
with deliberate pleasure
Like the one thing
they desire
more than anything
is to give.

--me