The coffee is never strong
enough. The first cup is proper,
though, with its milk ratio and all. That
I can expect. The second cup is diluted,
and I can expect that, being uncertain about using
more milk. I boil the water
in a pot and then pour it into the French press.
Depending on your grace with it, bystanders may
think that’s a craft method. It’s about as
craft as a bucket drum. We make do. Absolute
value of the beat or flavor is the final score, anyway. My
friend said, “you need a kettle.” I laughed, like
who am I, Neil Peart? Coffee’s cold now, anyway.
Maybe just drink the damn thing and shut
up about it. One thing’s for sure: the Louise
Gluck anthology is not a coaster. Well
fuck me, am I supposed to get a table or
something? Who am I, Martha Stewart? Just a kid
trying to have some coffee. The line between
expectation and entitlement is too delicate; most
of us haven’t done any worse than consider the words
more or better, anyway. Really, really…just shut up
and drink it.