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Poetry: Ode to Coffee and Cigarettes |
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By Nate Elam
TheSequitur.com Contributor
March 19, 2006
 Photo Adam Dubbin/TheSequitur.com
A man that would steal candy from babies, spit his gum onto a crowded sidewalk, watch as old ladies cross dangerous intersections, let the door close in your face, pretend not to hear as you ask me to hold the elevator or steal the gas pump you have been waiting on for five minutes. That would squeeze the toothpaste from the top of the tube, spin the loaf, leave the dishes undone for a week, wet towels in the bathroom floor, the garbage in, dog out, dirty socks everywhere, lights on and seat up.
A man that just minutes ago was flying across a purple sky, driving his Lamborghini Diablo, jamming with Miles Davis, curing cancer, and making love to Angelina Jolie until he was ripped from the warm embrace of sleep by an alarm clock that sounds like a thousand turkeys being sodomized all at once by some medieval device redesigned for the modern era by the same demented, evil bastards that produced Kenny G.
 Photo Adam Dubbin/TheSequitur.com
A man that, were it not for that first strong cup of coffee and heavenly cigarette would be capable of fixing elections, abandoning kittens in December, eating puppies, using the last roll of toilet paper without telling anyone, burning the library at Alexandria, running Auschwitz, or voting for Nixon.
And so,
Thanks be to the Virginia tobacco farmer and the coffee bean picker of Guatemala, thanks to the House of Maxwell and Mr. Phillip Morris.
It is you,
Who just this morning has saved the world from a man who,
Were it not for your efforts,
Would be the antichrist.
Nate Elam, a TheSequitur.com contributor, studies English and history at Morehead State University.
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