The Black Hole of Coffee
does one own a thing
that owns itself?
the thingamajig purred,
emitting a pleasing tone,
pleased, too, if I can judge
such things, as out popped
cubes that smelled like coffee,
Earth’s most complex, alluring odor,
but they shone like the sun and, like
the sun, pulled all things to them till only
things nailed down, and me, withstood
their mighty pull; the table round them wrapped,
my chair too (I fell), and I had to duck as knives and such
flew in and in till all suddenly shrank unto a mote, was gone
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