poem #5

coffee

 are we zombies
 until caffeine?
 am i at least?
 my mind, it wonders
 and i start to think
 of a wandering mind.
 what would that look like,
 floating around?
 i imagine it contained,
 but why?
 that wet, spongy thing
 making soft, sloppy sounds.
 it requires a vessel - 
 a jar perhaps.
 not unbound.
 not free.
 i ponder,
 would it be different
 to be judged
 by brains alone?
 no body.
 no face.
 no shapely skull.
 no encased mass.
 what would we appraise?
 by size, or weight?
 would it determine
 a lover's pick,
 or who they vote
 as president?
 the friends we make,
 the jobs we take,
 and even maybe
 the coffee we drink. 

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