Green Eggs and Coffee

I've tried to drink coffee, oh yes I have,
But I never drink coffee, which makes my wife sad.

I've tried lattes and mochas, sweetened and creamed.
I've tried it as ice cream and ways in between.

I'm old and I'm ornery and set in my ways
I wont drink your coffee, not now, not these days

Take it from here, this so vile brew
It won't touch my lips, it's not mine, but for you

My course has stayed steady, with nary a wobble,
Of coffee I've none, not even a snobble.

'Tis bitter and black and made none the better
By sugar or cream or even cold weather.

But today a thought, quite unexpected I guess
A request from my mouth gave quite some distress.

A small coffee, I said, to the Krispy Kreme girl,
Why not, thought my head, let's give it a whirl.

I received the dark brew, all steaming and hot,
Fresh smelly and strange and straight from the pot.

I toddled myself to the small narrow counter
And added some cream and some sugary powder.

"What are you doing?" I asked of my daring new head
We don't like this coffee, not ever you said!

But in went the sugar, followed by cream
Cooling the coffee, reducing the steam

I skedaddled myself straight back to the car
to make sense of my morning, a strange one by far.

Too hot for the lips, I set it aside
And wondered aloud as I finished my ride

What would the wife say, when soon she found out
I ordered a coffee, quite hot and most stout?

Finally it cooled and I was able to drink
of this popular liquid, this communal link

That connected so many, and if you were lucky
You could get one for nine bucks at the local Starbuckys

Wonder of wonders, the brew was still bitter,
But with cream and some sugar, I found I could sip her

This tiny carafe of watered down beans
that would hurt like the dickens, if spilled on my jeans.

I can't say, for sure, that coffee's my thing,
nor praises can I give, nor certainly sing

But I admit, for a day, my head has decided
That coffees not bad, and should not be blighted.

So I nod to the wife and beg her forgiveness,
As I sip on my soda and return to my business

Of dismissing the black brew I recently drank
as decidedly grody and bitter and rank

But perhaps, in a moment, of weakness I'm sure
I would fall prey to the odor, the tangible lure

Of sharing a coffee, her favorite drink
And not secrectly pour it straight down the sink.

But I will not enjoy it, that evil black brew!
(except maybe with cream, and a sugar or two.)