Coffee

Ruby stain 

along the rim of a 

black satin drink, 

blowing steam like a steam engine, 

and bitter flavor just as loud. 

Held by the same wrinkled,

sun spotted hand 

that held its like for decades past, 

the winter mug rises to lipstick dyed lips

Bringing along remembrances 

of days like Breakfast at Tiffany's- 

6 AM late night coffees in a little black dress. 

Same ruby stained rim

on the same black satin drink.

 'Ahhhhh, this doesn't change,' 

proclaims the quenched after-sip sigh 

on a weathered old face, 

eyes closed, 

smile forming. 

Those lips became creased, 

but that black satin 

still tastes like pungent adulthood, 

that stain still made of blue-red Chanel.