Some days, I just haven't a clue. There are no magic words, no prattling prose, no passionate reverie.
I look out my window. The sun crests the brown horizon, it's shafts broken by the novemberene mosaic of branches, yet no words flood the echoing cesspool of my brain - no words play hopscotch off the tip of my tongue. I am devoid of ability to comment on the celestial rolling of the gears.
Ah, coffee, sweet coffee! Your aromatic tendrils curl around me, caressing my olfactories, stirring memories of other sunrises enjoyed from adirondackian vantage. I yield to your robusto. I capitulate to your grandiose tyranny. The passenger door of my soul is flung wide to your meretricious gaudiness, and for a short time, I accept your play-act as "one and only," tempting me to bide longer when I leave my emptied cup as payment on the nightstand.
Ah, glorious coffee! Mental radiance in a ceramic cup! Arbiter of lucidity! Caffeine in excelsis!
My mind is an open conduit, a fertile playground to your ground-beanial suggestion....
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