First Pot

Sometimes I really need my first cup of coffee in the morning. On work days that cup is usually poured from Ma's first pot of the day. I have heard the words, "Coffee ready Beer. Look like you need it today," more times than I care to think about. This morning the first cup had me in Ma's bathroom before my breakfast was placed on my table.

First thing I did, after I locked the door, was slide open the window. It was going to be an ugly shit and I do not mean rough looking, I mean hideous. I was going to need more air than the little window would provide. Much to my surprise two black eyes were looking at me when I got the window open. The black eyes of a raven, my favourite bird.

We do not get many ravens here in the city. He sat there on a dead branch preening himself as he slowly climbed the branch. I would have liked to admire him a little longer but I had work to do.

When I was finished he was gone. I washed my hands and looked in the mirror. I was pale as the hunters' moon.

My breakfast was waiting for me. Ma eyed me from her stool behind the cash register. "I hope you feel better than you look. My coffee like magic, hey Beer? All my customer say my coffee twice as strong as Starbuck." She made a spitting motion toward the floor with her flat face and poured us both another cup.