Cup of Jo

This coffee shop

shaped by the passing cars

and lights and signs

watches the trees

watching it.

A cup of jo

sits in front

steaming—thinking.

My mind follows its

trail of thoughts.

a curiosity:

the beauty of not knowing,

but seeking.

The wind

outside

shutters against this cup,

bending, manipulating

its solidity.

Then it falls

and shatters upon the ground.

I am merely a cup of jo

in a bout with the wind:

the darkness

of my weakness

entertaining.

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