Coffee and Splenda

As the skim milk swilrs into

the black bean coffee my cousin

brought all the way from Colorado,

I put two bright yellow packets of zero

calorie chemicals right into the deep bottom.

My cousin yells at me for messing up

the perfectly blended beans, the barista

yelling at the ice cream stand girl. And

as the chemicals swirl into the bottom of the

cup, another fake chemical comes across my mind

Before something spilled the coffee

over the white shirt, she was the cream to my sugar,

the bread to my butter and as all the clichés run through

my mind, the endless comparisons of sweet

natural fats the chemicals have already candied my

coffee, the fake has done its job and the skim

milk and coffee and the splendid Splenda warm

my skin, freeing it of any stress and memories

and I move on from the natural sugar and blended

drinks topped with whipped cream because

my cousin blended this coffee just for me,

because I like the chemicals much more then I

ever liked knowing one, because drinking sweet

coffee wakes me up, from slumber and the realization

that nothing lasts, but the Splenda keeps on sugaring

whatever it is I wish to drink.

After all, it was only middle school

So I choose coffee,

and I walk on.