A jar of nuts, resolute and salty, stares at me from across the bar next to a rather condescending brass teapot, while a cold coffee in need of attention in order to attain some closure sits idly at my elbow judging my obsession with narrating the mundane.
What then, I whisper frustratedly at my half eaten croissant that has been conspiring with the caffeine, leaning in so that my fellow patrons can’t eavesdrop. What if not the everyday life of the poet could capture the meaning of existence short of the answer to the universe itself. What difference is it to describe the most fantastic sunset the human senses can experience with the most extravagant words we have yet to invent, when all of it remains fundamentally limited in its earthliness.
How can one care to describe painstakingly their experience, even if it has been so extraordinary in human terms as to have witnessed thousands of sunsets on hundreds of locations on earth, when the universe itself sees billions of sunsets in each of its billions of galaxies in each passing instant in a spectral vibrancy our minds can’t even comprehend.
My croissant is flakey and puffed, has yielded admirably to my jaws, and my coffee is aromatic and pleasant. The effort exerted to record a personal voyage is no more than it takes to ensure the enjoyment of every passing moment while the universe itself remains, unaware of the difference between a second and a lifetime, or the difference between the age of mankind and a jar of nuts. Or of the concept of a jar of nuts for that matter.
Or maybe, the universe is the jar of nuts, and the teapot, the coffee, my elbow, the fellow patrons, the human senses, and the notion of flakiness in a pastry, and maybe, by drawing the lines between everything in this cafe, I can attempt become the astronomer of my own personal universe.
Somewhere a scone scoffs at my speculations, and I order a plate of cheese for a sense of closure.
The photo is of the Fancy Mixed Nuts Glass Jar, 88 oz, from Ferris Coffee & Nut