i just walked out of starbucks
with a tall dark mocha frapp
and now i'm leaning off a bridge
and looking down at that
a river like cold coffee
lit up by neon signs
and lamps that still can't warm me
and stars that barely shine
and, God, i just can't take it
some ways i've got it made
i know life's good, i know i'm rich
i know i can't complain
but coffee can be bitter
and lonely isn't sweet
and i walk past that church sign
and usually i laugh
but now it's like the neon
i slow down and go back
WHEN YOU ARE DOWN TO NOTHING
GOD IS UP TO SOMETHING
it quips in nifty rhythm
what you say in perfect pain
what you say in amputations
what you say in death and shame
what you say in every let-down
every staggering surprise
every irony that strikes home
every neighbor boy that mocks
every single single moment
every coffee spill that rocks
my fickle frail my feeble world
i guess i'm multi-blessed then
'cause when it rains it pours
i'm rich in more than one way
since you are "up to" more
but, Jesus, please come quickly
i'm weary of this wealth
at least come share this mocha
so i'm not by myself
I like Chicago. If I had any idea where you left your coffee I might go find it. Mochas shouldn't be left alone.
My housemate and I were talking last night, and he quoted, "Commit your ways to him and he will direct your paths" and I recognize, maybe through a fog, the truth of it, but feels like the sort of platitude that ends up in the yearbook.
Posted by: Jeep at November 5, 2003 05:49 AM