unscrewed the thermos lid & saw a little me in the dark; waiting bubbles floating through my skin clotted in a dirt flavoured tea he called it coffee; black brown & bubbling blotted like ink & smelled like scorched earth—we don’t need him anymore saw him sometimes; talked about the trains the newest model is yellow & blue & fast carriages that move along straight lines predestined destination; point a to b steel tracks & ferrous blood on my lips hurtled downward onto the black tarmac suddenly coffee was like violence bottled— consider the driver; expert of the track & line knowing his son was the bender this smelled like coffee that was when i started drinking it hot, like i could burn the evidence