The wind stung our eyes
and tugged at our cheeks
as the truck hurtled down the hill.
Quaint nipa houses
were flung behind
as the wheels worked the gravel path.
The rivets squeaked;
the bolts creaked.
At every stamp of the foot break,
we shook like coffee beans in our seats.
The noisy and jiggly journey of beans
from grinder to mug
takes a long, long while to love.
