a man without a coffee

sipping my day-off coffee

considering day-off bourbon

staring into tuesday

looking for words

in my sugar bowl

kurt vonnegut spins around

in the empty chair

across time

and reminds me

he has no country

or life in his body

i pass him the half and half

he defers for whole milk

he tells me he lived too long

to be dead

and still unsure about dairy

i present your dilemma

a request for a swift firing squad

and he suggests a friendly musket

i agree

as it displays

merciful sang-froid

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