I am a helpless, habitual coffee drinker. For the most part, I don’t drink yuppie, frothy coffee. No, I drink the black stuff, the kind that tastes like ash. I drink it like it’s a badge of American masculinity, I guess. My grandpa used to say, “real men take their coffee the way God intended it–black as night.”
Today I am at Tweetspeak Poetry, writing their found poetry prompt “tea for two.” We’ll discuss the British, the Japanese, and my cold-turkey coffee break. Click here for the rest of “September: Tea for Two (the diary of a coffee quitter).”
Photo (top) by ienjoysusi, Creative Commons via Flickr.