this daily weary algorithm
wood chopped at dawn
smoky fire blown to flame
weeping eyes
boil water
carried from a stream
make coffee
sugar, black with drunken ants,
stirred in
I sit to drink the first and only of the day
Plop!
a gecko in my coffee
a baby of uncertain velcroed feet
but perfect aim
in the scald of cup it puckered
into an antique ivory brooch
carved by a master
dead in a flicker
death in the morning
unwaste the toil of making
I toss the debris into the teeming bush
a squadron of parrots squabble high in the palms
ants begin to recycle the soft intricacies
I drink my coffee
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