AFFIRMATION
by Ricky Novaes de Oliveira
Divination of the dregs. I'm very forgetful & you remember you only need yourself to hear coyotes bay the night's dead to grow into someone else by moonlight. At the sundown park, I see behind a tree lovers licking matching mustaches, petals following breeze, between breath & grin shuffling palms sway what they want. I try to remember: make sure you are so in love with your life that a partner is a treat, but never a necessity. If only yesterday's coffee tasted better

On the way home, I watched a rom-dram.
Past Lives (2023, A24) perhaps deserved more than the tiny screen on the headrest of a Boeing airbus, but it was a stellar movie despite the constraint. The film’s plot concerns what we gain and lose when we let things go, and the idealistic nature of love and loneliness. Its been lingering with me.
Apparently so too has coffee, as this is the second coffee-centered poem I wrote. A few years ago I didn’t even drinking coffee regularly. Huh. Anyway, “Affirmation” is like a mosaic or collage in my mind: I wrote many of the individual lines years and miles apart, but tried to assemble them here into a poem about waiting too long for love to feel like love.
It’s a poem I just put together, and I’m not sure if it’s finished yet—more? or less? or another way?—but I will try to embrace the movie I happened to catch on the way home: embrace reality.
Diviningly, Ricky
I’m feeling like your AI image as I drink mushroom coffee (feeling very GenZ as adaptagens hit my brain) and the morning sun creeps into the courtyard where I’m sitting.
My advice: Today is a new day. Make a fresh pot of coffee and start a conversation with someone new at the beach. 😄