Fields Of Coffee Beans Poem by James McLain

Cups of coffee beans;
Like the woman that I'm not.
Like every other tree, to know her hand.
Is where I stand.
Both drink coffee free and pay the cost.
Am I supposed to be afraid.
Some over reached and can't put back.
Christian and each Muslim and or theorists.
and Terrorists like beans,
when ripe who picked, to know I'm not, I don't.
Bombs fall like little beans from the sky.
I am American, I think I am.
When I think one's not, You are.
When last you checked, I checked you not.
When is it war, when it is not.
All our lives.
These beans you could have mixed with sugar.
Instead you grind them up.
I watch her as she picks one up, I dropped.
I dropp another,
it is just a game we play with each other.
She dropps two more out back, in front one grows.
My beans grow bitter and do they Roast your hand.