I woke and made coffee
A poem by Ginger Cochran
One morning, I woke and made coffee.
And I thought, for the first time – what if I have been asleep my whole live and am waking for the very first time?
What if I were in a coma? What if I were dead?
The coffee is very warm.
I stop to concentrate on the taste – as if it were the first sip of my life.
I soak in every possible sound – the air vent, the fountain and the pencil against paper.
What if I am experiencing it all for the very first time?
will the next time be the last time?
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