My Yearning For Coffee Is Unreal

I have started to dream about it. Last week when I shared with my instructor, in the course of a conversation he initiated about the stuff, that I had given it up, he said "that is wrong on so many levels." Last night I dreamt that I ran into him at a coffeeshop that was supposed to be the One World, but wasn't, and I was there to get a cup. When I told him this, he said "you're born again." This is absolutely unreal. Smelling the deep dark aroma of it wafting from the cups of people I pass, smelling it in grocery stores, or even on someone's breath almost makes me want to cry. This is not a physiological need. I am no longer addicted, but coffee haunts me.

I'm thinking of writing a series of poems in homage.

And I know. I know. I could drink it if I wanted to. I could learn to take it black (I only did it for a week, and I was never won over to the dark side), but I see that not having it has been very good for me. I'm a lot less irritable, I have less acid reflux, I feel less weighed down, oh but I miss it.

No disrespect to green tea, but it's like the really solid, secure guy that you date after the volatile, uber sexy renaissance man who couldn't be depended upon, but made your blood sing.

If you've ever been in love you know what I'm talking about.