Thank you God for coffee
That gets me through the day
That keeps me nice and regular
(Maybe that I shouldn’t say)
‘Cause if it weren’t for coffee
I don’t know what I’d do
I’d probly chew tobacco
‘Course there’s marijuana too.
Nah, I wouldn’t chew tobacco,
But coffee stains my teeth
I think I’d use the hash
Cause I’d have better breathe.
Who am I to say
What’s right or good or bad?
When pushing comes to shoving
It’s whatever people have
Around them when they need it,
A mental shift in mood.
Mine’s black and strong with cream
It’s psychoactive too.
In other places it’s totally fine
To drag on this or that.
Culture is such a blinder
I’d rather just forget
About stigma (gasp), taboo
Who needs them anyway?
Thank you God for coffee
That gets me through the day.
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I'm Sarah--mother of two daughters, 10 and 8, born in Oregon, raised in Eastern Washington, played basketball and learned a little Japanese language at the University of San Francisco, volunteered as a youth minister in Adderbury, England, farmed on Lopez Island (where I met my husband from Nebraska), farmed some more in central Ohio for Dominican Sisters, graduated from OSU's college of food, ag and environmental sciences and moved to Michigan. I bake sourdough bread and pizza, like to run into neighbors outside on a regular basis, only knit if the weather is cold, and love the feel of my heart beat and the burn of my lungs after paddle boarding in a lake or working outside, especially after turning the compost pile. My husband is a researcher and instructor at a state university, and we often dream about sailing with friends. Maybe I'll start making Christmas presents early this year, but probably not.
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