(dedicated to my friend Nick Mason)
At 18,
my parents took me to Kona, Hawaii where
(surrounded by miles and miles
of black, barren volcanic tranquillity)
we visited a coffee plantation:
(there was an elaborate display
showing each step of coffee creation.)
Afterward,
we took a swim on a black sand beach
Later, having come to teach English in Thailand
(surrounded by Asiatic splendor and 3rd world squalor)
I would of a working morning
always buy 2 cans of cold coffee and a sausage
which I'd give to a mangy street dog
who I called Friendly
(his mange improved weekly:
I was congratulating myself grandly
when I came upon a truly giant hound
afflicted with the same condition)
On the Planet Zordac,
there is a three-eyed reptilian janitor
right now savoring a hot and stimulating electric blue brew
with a tasty cheese zurger;
in his spare time,
he's been discussing free-will, pornography,
and "the zuniversal zimperative"
with his pal the philosopher Zimmanuel Zant,
who carries on a virtual correspondence
with the Zapanese poet Zasho
(he plays the zxylophone)
this haiku morning
(with a million dollar steak)
I took zen coffee
