Just a Cup

Oh! What it’s like to be filled up! Up, UP!, to my brim, my smooth lip that brushes against your dry and prickly pair. I pour my contentment into you! Oh, what a thing! Perhaps I’m bubbling sappy and sugary and empty calories, but, then again, and again, and again, you need me

Not me, exactly….

No matter, no matter at all! It’s what’s inside that counts, right? But where does that leave me? On occasion I have a heart of gold, of pulp, of substance, and of nourishment. Sometimes I’m filled with a blackness that’s just pure dripping energy and blood surging through your eyelids and sinus-choking cigarette smoke. Sometimes I’m a taste of clarity, plain and simple. It depends on you, you, you.

Not me, exactly….

Ours is a relationship for the ages; give and take; the push/pull; the friends with benefits dynamo; the mutual thirst for the coalescence of our perspiration on a warped and blurry summer’s day; the inching icy winter evenings spent lapping wet mouths…

You need me….

You think of me as a cheap trinket, a conglomeration of who gives a hoot…yet you treat my family with delicacy, venerability, Love. The way you run the pad of your pointed down the dewy translucent spine of my brother… my soul stagnates in emptiness. So, fine. Fine. Drop me, lush. Knock me down, souse. Over, and over, and over. My longevity, my long game; this is what you crave. Or, a long slow sip of me –from me, rather.

You need me….

You need me, but you toss me headfirst into the moist and rank rot with the other riff raff. Do you need them too? Do you? No, you don’t. You use them for sheer convenience, like you use me. You don’t need them. You could hold your sustenance in the palm of your hand; feed your soul with your fingers….but the mess. You use them like you use me. You lazy, inconsiderate ingrate… no matter. You don’t need them, but you need me. My essence cannot simply be grasped by your kind, but by harnessing me, exercising my intrinsic purpose, you use me, and I love it.

And I love you.