sipping coffee (or) mundane thoughts

sipping coffee that is a 
little bitter, a little cold
for my taste, between 
puffs of smoke; the overall
taste of tobacco and 
beans and milk and
sugar and vada and
a bunch of things my
palate cannot catch so simply;
is just the flavour of my days.

this occurrence of 
late nights, turning into
early mornings, extending
into afternoons, happen
when both of us simply
do not want to leave and
return to the intricacies of
everyday life that is not
muddled by lethargy and smoke.

(how one exists 
in a world of solidity and real 
decisions with such ease
is beyond me.)

so we put our coffee on 
the bedside table, beside
the half eaten vada, put
out our cigarettes in the
ashtray, pull up our bed-sheet
and let the afternoon extend 
into another late night and
then into another early morning,
sipping the same, now stone-
cold coffee.