in parentheses

Carmen Guzmán is a writer from Puerto Rico living in Boston. By day: a Boston University alumnae of the film and television program who blogs and shoots videos for a non-profit. By night:an expediter at a restaurant in Cambridge who enjoys a good whiskey. In her head: another story.

How Many Cups Of Coffee Does It Take To Get My Heart To Explode?

Serious Question: (If I Had A Heart)

How many cups of coffee does it take
to get my heart to explode?
I just want to get rid of it
so it feels no more.

I’d rather have it bursting from my chest,
running a marathon out on the streets
of Boston, or maybe New York,
than sitting solemnly, in my chest,
beating…slower…and slower…
because nothing seems to amuse it anymore.

Should the coffee be dark roast?
Something strong, something bold.
To get the motors running.
Heart bumping.
Because no amount of medium roast will do the trick.
And no one takes blond roast seriously.
You hear me Starbucks?

Should I buy my coffee from the corner market?
Or go and run on Dunkin?
Ingest some Ventis on Trentis On Ventis
as catalyst for a wonderful and utterly remarkable,
rapid beating heart
that will eventually trigger

a burst in my capillaries,
fuck my arteries.
Get my blood flowing out of my body.
onto other adventures, I suppose,

make me feel
what it’s like to not feel
my skin crashing into yours,
creating heat, gasping for more.
see, blood seems to make things feel,
like body heat. and anemia. and leukemia.
and even nausea and relief.
In his case, I want to call it quits.
Get rid of all of it.

Should my coffee be black?
a straight attack,
nothing to retract,
fuck skim, whole, soy milk.
no sugar added,
because who wants to be sweet at a time like this?
I want this to be short and quick.

So please answer me this:
How many cups of joe
can help me destroy
the whole idea that love
lives in my chest,
and not in my thoughts?