morning coffee nihilism

if you were puerto rican you would know how important a small cup of expresso was. just enough boiled over milk to turn the coffee a mulatto brown, cafe con leche, the color of our diverse and inclusive complexion. but, alas, my mom is no longer making the coffee here and no one is invited to that exclusive coffee boutique called mama's kitchen this morning. being so far away in the manifold cultural haven of union new jersey, so far away from hayward california it makes me want to take a drive and curse at moronic west coast drivers in southern italian and portuguese. the girls are still sleeping at 8:02 am i can expect about another 1/2 hour of silence. the vacuum made by the absence of mom and her coffee cannot be filled. i am at one with the void.