I have an unconventional relationship to mugs.
Teacups, bowls, plates, ashtrays but mostly coffee mugs.
I must explain.
They have a supernatural significance
Together with all the other pieces
Creating a collage of the day
A patch in the tapestry of my life
A theme, as to a poem.

Each mug has a name
I write epithets on their nature-
One day these mug reviews will be a coffee table compendium,
with a game built in of matching the review to the mug.

Baby Korea was chosen today

A deep real and mint vine
loaded with fuschia, magenta and pale pink Columbine flowers,
some buds resembling witches’ green clawed fingers for some reason
The deeper lagoon color fills the cup
The bottom reads “Made in Korea 1990”
The field which wraps the outside is white,
with two pink lines at top and bottom
Which creates a minimalist trellis
for the flowers to drape and tangle upon.

The precise combination of color, design and space
somehow attributing itself to my outfit
of this dark and rainy day in June-
a flannel nightgown, a flannel bathrobe
both patterned,
my feet settled into a bright coral shower shoe
made by the totes brand,
a name certainly found in heaps of 90s clothing,
usually as a peacock colored raincoat
…but I bought them new at the Kroger only a few weeks ago
so as to have a more summery experience.
The patterns today are
red black and creme plaid,
a fading pattern creating the illusion of different shades of red.
The bathrobe is like old 30s wallpaper,
light blue, green and red
flocking on a cream backdrop
with bright red popping on the collar and pocket.
The exploding paisley curlicues
bordered by pinstripes of baby breath.

I’m enveloped in soft flannels
My locally honeyed coffee
growing cold near the 4th cup
my feet are feeling the cold as well,
record temperatures for June 2nd, perhaps,
and a surprise after the summery interlude of the camping trip
of several past fortnights.

The coffee is named for Paul Bunyan’s Blue Ox
The half and half of today was a gamble,
a local dairy
-but Not my usual JD’s Creamery Cream
-nor Kroger’s Organic Half and Half
which would be my second usual.

The Co-op,
where I would normally buy honey and cream
closes an hour early since Covid Times,
an annoying fact
that caused me to cut off an angry motorist
as I swung my car onto Lisle Industrial
and headed instead to the Kroger beyond the cemetery.
Buying honey and cream is an important ritual to me,
and I was grumbling as I realized
I must settle for less than the best
(Which is a violation of my personal code)
but Kroger has tried to carry local these days,
When the trend has so thoroughly and finally
swept the country and landed here in the middle east.

One of my housemates, sits across from me,
sipping coffee infused with Peruvian cocoa nibs
and lavender infused cream,
fingering her freshly drawn wheel of time,
the kālacakra,
and Durga sits upon a tiger near the river,
one of many treasures flowing past in the stream
the fabric backdrop of a readied embroidery hoop, missing it’s borders,
Fresh and infinite muslin to fill.