Praise the last supper of it
when all else is siphoned away, 
the satisfying mastication.
Welcome the granulated silt 
of a sweetness fished up 
from the bottom, how it flops 
onto tongue’s deck and sparkles. 
Give thanks to the ruddy science
of polymers which contain it all, 
the cups that perspire beside us
in the car, who keep their lid 
on our secret recipes whispered
from the window like confession. 
O voice on the other side, hear now
our cold brewed lust, our extra large
greed. Forgive us the sloth of driving 
through, because we will always covet
exact change, the bloody bean harvest, 
antibiotic resistant baptisms of cream. 
Let small acts of charity swaddle us
like napkins pressed to feverish
plastic skin. Carry this order back
into crushing traffic once more 
the way a collections plate passes
hand to hand to hand.