Cold Coffee

I was sitting in high heat
with a wind warning on
my phone.

I didn’t have to look at
the phone. It was here.
I was typing and forgot

about my cup of coffee.

But I really wanted to
drink the rest of it.
Normally if anything

larger than the head of
a pin lands in my coffee
I won’t drink it.

But not today.

There was the tiniest
flying insect I’d ever
seen floating in my

coffee like it crashed
and burned there.
I stuck the tip of my

forefinger gently onto
the surface of the
coffee. The small bug

stuck to the end of my
finger with a little bit
of coffee.

So, there I sat with a
bug on the end of my
wet finger without

napkins or paper.

I wiped it off to
smithereens on the
black metal chair leg.

By now the coffee
was cold and turned
to sludge.

Some things bug me.
Like debris or insects
in my coffee or

cold coffee.