The very first time I had ever had my coffee black
was because I was just being polite.
A man wanted to brew me coffee.
I sat at his table with the candle I gave him
and it was the only light in the room.
He brought me a cup, and told me
he had no cream or sugar.
What was I to do? He brewed it specifically for me.
I didn’t speak. I choked down the black sludge.
He talked of his travels and his photographs of sequoias.
We shared a cigarette
and he rubbed olive oil in my hands.
I grew tired and decided to depart
and I thanked him for his hospitality.
I have not put cream or sugar in my coffee since.