Last night I attended an Open Mic Night hosted by the South Jersey Writer’s Group. All of us basked in the afterglow of Valentine’s Day. The spirit of the season inspired me to share a love poem I’d penned at the age of 19. (This would’ve been four years ago for those of you who’ve never met me. For those who have, it was five years ago.)
Back in my youth I aspired to be a songwriter. I sat down one evening with my bass guitar and came up with the framework for a song called “Hot Coffee.” While most musicians my age wrote about nothing but love, I chose a different tack. I tasked myself with a voyage of self-exploration. “What was one thing I couldn’t live without?” After much reflection and contemplation, it came to me. I crafted the lyrics about something I truly enjoyed more than anything else.
Looking back it should’ve been self-evident. My subject hooked me. The first time I tried it I knew it would be a part of my daily routine from that day forward. I had to write a song about it.
After an evening of research or ‘indulgence’, if you will, I crafted these lyrics. The group members I recited them to last night seemed to enjoy. I hope you do too. This is “Hot Coffee”.
Thinkin’ about the countless ways
I pass the time on Saturday night.
I cruise the town all around
Just lookin’ for somethin’ to do
But when the clock strikes Midnight
There’s only one place I’m gonna be.
I’ll be heading to the neighborhood diner
And that’s where you’ll find me
Lookin’ for my…
Hot Coffee
Two lumps of sugar sweet
Hot Coffee
Add the cream and it’s such a treat
Give me that
Hot coffee to go
That’s where my baby’s workin’.
She’ll be at it ‘till the break of day.
Let me tell you all right now
She ain’t all work and no play.
I can’t wait to get there.
I’m feelin’ mighty too cold.
I need a cup of her hot coffee
To heat and warm my soul.
Now give me that…
Hot Coffee
Two lumps of sugar sweet
Hot Coffee
Add the cream and it’s such a treat
Give me that
Hot coffee to go
If you don’t mind a little crowd
I guess I’ll see you there on Saturday night.
When the neighborhood boys hear my baby’s workin’
The place really packs ‘em in tight.
You should see the looks on their faces
When my baby leaves with me, but I don’t care.
They cry and moan and scream and groan
But who said life was fair?
They’re not getting’ any…
Hot Coffee
Two lumps of sugar sweet
Hot Coffee
Add the cream and it’s such a treat
Give me that
Hot coffee to go
I may not warrant comparison with the great wordsmiths. No one will place me in the same category as Springsteen, Dylan or any of the great British Romantic poets of the nineteenth century. That’s okay. There are some things in life more important than the adoration of anonymous critics. I think about that every day when I have my coffee.
© 2015 Kevin Stephany
