Taste of Texas

You expect something exquisite
about the java at highway turnabouts;
a fresh elixir in stained ceramic calls
to state police & big-rig drivers,
descendants of the cowpokes,
connoisseurs of tar & gravel.

But there's a sour turn to the brew
that sits all day, not unlike customers,
on the back-burner. When a snake-charmer
straddles his counter stool to beg Sue Ann
for another shot of her mighty fine Joe,
we know he's adding all that sweet-talk
just to get it down.

The open road roasts nothing
but its own blend. By the pumps
at Café Exxon, we order two to go,
take a sip, & toss it out.
Time we saddle up, & leave
that chicory & mojo in our dust.