Coffee Can On A Cliff Poem by Tailor Bell

There's a coffee can on a cliff
Like a shoeshine cup it sits

One minute
You watch the surf
Playing songs in La Jolla
Drinking margaritas over pits
Breeding dobermans for Detroit

The next, you're unlidding ashes

Contemplating their color
Probing the density
Wondering which parts are soul,
Which bone, pointy splitback ears in styrofoam

You might take a spoonful
With a shooter, a chaser, a shine
Crimped salt shaker and tangy lemon

Like a friend of mine, Clare
Who always wanted to go standing
But went bunny hopping instead

Man did she have a bounce
Smooth wedge and a six foot dismount

This world can't be unfair
Until you sit with the diamondmaker
Notice these road signs all point west
Where ceramic mugs are big business
Lined with liners of 'handmade' silk

You've got to squeeze out
Fresh juice if you want fresh
Just remember that coffee
Doesn't come from Park Place

And this place...
This spinning tequila worm you chance
Well, it's nothing, but relief
On the cliff