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coffee with e.e. cummings in my head
Poem by Elizabeth Cheung
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coffee with e.e. cummings in my head
Poem by Elizabeth Cheung

(page 18 of 93)

Keywords: eleventh transmission, poetry, fiction, photography, visual art, spoken word, film, socially engaged,
political, human experience, writing, satire, photojournalism, activist art, activism, socially conscious, art

coffee with e.e. cummings in my head

by Elizabeth Cheung

faster i have never sipped, slower now beyond
my clay mug, your cappuccino
on this most sensual bar stool are things which kiss me,
of which i cannot touch because they too are dancing

your ribald look while prancing by me
you savor me at the table
you recline chair by chair into a Sphinx
(thinking need not apply)

you offer me a spoon and say “Write me”
lick my gloves  - no explanation, obtained,
as when my leather boots or this clay mug
don a fur coat and assume the dance

it means nothing that we sway without your walking cane
or that your  mole skin painted by your panssexual fountain pen:
gives me the espresso of my americano,
loving  black gold more with each sitting

i do not see what it is about you
that hug that frolic; only something in me smells
the dark chocolate in your mocacinno while you stroke in the sunset
not even old books have such wiley pulp fiction

i take my clay mug and leather boots and vintage fur;
and all is as it was again.
(I having sipped you up inside
hidden behind my Life Magazine.)

Poetry by A.J. Huffman.
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