Cofee drops

The night was damp

The judge’s voice had a soft crackle

Like on a an old record, played in

And out, till music, silence and gramophone

Became one

 

“You look like you could use a good cup of coffee

Your honor”

I spoke boldly in my defense,

“Harvested from the fields

And farms of Guatemala

Touched by beautiful women,

Soaked from the blood of so many revolutions

And finally drank by the lips and tongues and throats

Of so many corrupt judges

Well, I think, your honor, you could really use

Some of my soul touching dark Maragogype

Maybe your judgment wouldn't be so impaired

And I could go and drink my cup”

The judge kept silent, I hoped for minimal

The judge kept silent, took a sip

And with a light stroke of a gavel, dark coffee

Still dripping from his mustache

He sentenced me to death.