Yet, Only

Graphic Semira Kosciuk

It fuckin' terrified me when you said 

the meaning of life was in a latte,

cause now I can’t stop thinkin’ bout how some-

thing as mundane as a six-dollar coffee could 

possibly be an answer to some yet,

only laughing points to others??

And when you said: “Take a trust fall into the universe!"

I dissolved in the pavement where 

Saint-Marc and Maisonneuve collide;

waking up to ruminations of me getting fired 

for a job I never cared about in the first place.


So why does this memory repeat?

And why do I feel like I have somethin'

 to prove to anyone who: 


I think I’m just glued to this childhood belief that 

life should mean more than six dollars 

(total but 35 cent each) sip. 


And I think this “universe trust fall” 

wasn’t as literal as I made it out to be-

cause when I look outward 

(to my universe, surroundings, napkins, etc.)

I see myself bound together with knots, 

tightly grippin' all the plastic 

acquiesced throughout my life. 

But now it’s all green 'n brown,

rather soft to the touch, and my wrists feel hollow

(makin’ whatever sound hollow wood makes 

while wailing on a glass wall for hours on end, 

in a last-ditch attempt to adhere to my past.)


And if it’s not clear already, 

to whoever oversees this:

“I want out, I want home, 

I want red, blue, purple, ‘n yellow!

I wanna give this plastic a home,

where it don’t follow me no more!!

And I want coffee to be cheap, widespread,

and completely insignificant in my everyday life!”


No one’s on the other side, and that’s okay.

'Cause I’m greedy and stubborn and prone to my past.

With no option but to cherish whatever plastic remains. 

So, I’ll just float here forever, suspended in con-

crete between Saint-Marc and Maisonneuve 

takin’ an infinite trust fall into the universe 

when the only thing I’ve ever wanted 

is to find meaning in a latte.

This article originally appeared in Volume 44, Issue 9, published January 30, 2024.