Cleaning on Tuesday

One is rarely enough.
And that smell, the notes aloft
When being deployed,
Dark deity in cup, awake
I finally say,
Thank you, so much old and new,
Recall when I saw grown ups drinking
It– dad with his paper, mom, students
In college– ugh, how could you ,
So repugnant. Now look
At me, a Beat with no liferaft. Like
A child craving cookies or cake,
Demanding before they’ve finished their
Dinner. This cup is regression then, right?
That need, that hole, that rope…
Orbits it just like me, or is it just
Part of the morning, the routine’s
Piece. One of them.
A song that I keep playing.
May be the only one
I really know,