At the coffee machine (poem)

Tuesday 01st, April 2014 / 12:49 Written by


There’s always a line at the coffee machine
No Styrofoam cups anymore, but coffee is free
All of us on our mini-breaks, hiding from the grind
Filling up, we are cars waiting for our fix
Our petroleum is black; our tanks porcelain
talkingtalkingtalking you hear complaints about bosses
and gossip about others as we inch our way forward
The sun is amber now, how long we have been here
while the water cooler stands empty
we are getting close
seasons change and people leave but,
there is always a line at the coffee machine
this you will come to see.

This peom has previously been published on jawonthefloor.

Front image by Giovanni Portelli

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About the author

Jerome Cornelius is a writer based in Cape Town. His interests include gender, sexuality, entertainment and politics. He is currently completing his Master's degree in Creative Writing and hopes to always speak back to power, and find the stories.

View all articles by Jerome Cornelius

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