N  a  p a  l  m     H  e  a  l  t  h     S  p  a  :     R  e  p  o  r  t     2  0  1  1

WANDA COLEMAN


Night Coffee (6)

in the distance
someone plays My Funny Valentine one note at a time
 
an espresso barista’s coup
there is no finer brew
to share when love is new
when i take my black wine blue
 
we have no credit card
driving up and down boulevards at 2 a.m.
 
we try to get a room
our clothes are out of date. we have no luggage
 
there’s darkness in the light
when ravens burst into flight
while my lover holds me tight
over black wine blued just right
 
the line outside the
pawn shop is a block long in the desert heat
 
prostitutes work the neighborhood
monitored by teen-aged pimps
 
the dream at dawn goes red
when hungover or underfed
romantics play like lead
till the fresh-blued hits my head
 
good dressing disguises
the garbage smell of sour onion and decaying lettuce
 
thru cheap sheet rock
the rush of hot water, the shower head singing
 
i take my black wine blue
can’t make it sweet as you
there’s nuthin’ cream can do
when i make my black wine blue
 
in the distance a noodling. My Funny Valentine.  
one note at a time