Bubbles in My Coffee

[Revolte]

To whom belongs these bubbles
sitting upon my coffee?
Shallow breath–perhaps,
breath of a ghost.
Or maybe the bug I thought you were
is the victim who owns you.
Or rather, owned you
as I picked and popped you
didn't I?

But because when I am done
and you are within me,
you will ferment into my soul.
And then I will breathe from your lungs
–if even in the vaguest sense–
and wait until I too am plucked.
So that I may be drank
and drunken off your sweet
timid breath.

Perhaps then I am the owner
of a failed escape from liquid beans
poured into a glass cup for energy.
Even though it is early morning
and I should be asleep
so my worries could fade
instead of painting new ones
out of curiosity
and caffeine.