Partial coffee ghazal

This coffee, a dark melodrama, a brew that sits me down;
an ancient beggar with false modesty and heavy words.

Where is my waking? he asks. The sun is bright and lidded with cloud;
waking walks wide round me, avoids me. A plague is how it treats me.

Open up your mouth. Coffee words and bent coins token your teeth.
You cringe for the heat. Exchange.

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