I pour the cream
Into the dark brown memories
It swirls into the dreams of my childhood
I am five
pouring milk
on daddy’s knee
into his coffee
I see the clouds
I remember
The cups that line my cupboards
Fill the shelves
remind me
of who I am
where I came from
The coffee clouds
bring back Old Spice
Open Kitchen Windows
and heavy cast off diner cups
instant coffee
and thick real, cream separated, milk

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