You mostly see coffee rings left on tables, a print made by the bottom ring of the cup, made from careless handling by the waiter or drinker, or the wind, or where the legs are unevenly spread on the ground and inevitably get expressed on the top of the table.
Coffee rings are a sign of disorganisation. They are the prey for dish cloths begging to be erased. They are low ranked objects but above spent tissues, soiled toilet paper and cigarette butts.
They are always cup sized and exist mostly at table height. They can appear in clusters, pairs, or singly. They can accrue over a meal or conversation. They are at their worst when unremovable, when they have stained the table ‘cloth’.
They mostly make you sad, because they appear after the event when the joy has been spent, when the actors have left the scene and they are no longer accompanied by sounds.
They are the coffin bearers of the present.
When I am in my street and I cannot bear to have another sip of coffee, or when I find an old forgotten cup of old coffee that is still pourable, I make a ring of it by pouring it out. From having practised I can make a good circle. Depending on the amount of coffee I can make a large or small ring. The large ones are close up and the smaller are further away.
Because of the fat component in the coffee they glisten when dry, and last for three months come hail, or rain.
I can make the road a real mess with these coffee rings, as much of a mess as the parked cars make.
Out of good manners I always park my coffee rings in the middle of the road.
I don’t mount the kerb with them as the cars do.
