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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