African coffee so black
and so bitter
every taste bud stood
up,
trance danced
and
shivered
one for the money
two for the show
three to sip bravely
go man go
run down the mountain
through mud and muck
where slave traders’ gun/
shots blast the day broken
fill canyons with
bullets and leaded
dark mugs of thick/
ened bad luck
oh can Joe reach 'fore
his neck drowns
in flood rivers
of blood
and coagulated dread
that funky rusted red truck
parked next to the hut
where coffee is roasted,
ground to powder
and savored,
ritually drunk?
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