Poem: Same Coffee as it Ever Was

Truck stop coffee in a styrofoam cup
Idling on a burner late into the evening
Has a caffeinated timeless quality to it
Much like the elderly lady at the register
Who watches wearily the wandering aisles
Of road dusted bodies pouring black coffee
Into white cups that cost a dollar and change
No matter where in the country you are
The drink itself always tastes the same
Slightly burnt yet mellow not unpleasant 
For the weaker souls there’s always creamer
Non-dairy in plastic cups and sugar
In a dirty shaker that would fail inspection
Anywhere other than the time stopped station
In the middle of nowhere on a dark road
That’s still serving the same coffee
My grandfather probably drank on his travels

Maybe the connection is a memory
Transcending time and location
Running deep through bitter grinds percolating

Copyright © 2021 TJS Sherman All rights reserved.

14 thoughts on “Poem: Same Coffee as it Ever Was

  1. You nailed this one! But I miss the old diners we used to stop by on cross country trips. One of my favorite memories is traveling w husband snd three kids and a dog in a 66 mustang. Somewhere between Houston and VT, we stopped. We all ordered the blue plate special that included an ice cream sundae. About five minutes later the meal, drinks and sundaes all arrived and were put on our table at the same time. The kids just looked at us, so funny. Great memory

    Liked by 1 person

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