The Coffee Blues

Morning coffee blues,
Cold cream in steaming darkness,
A pinch to wake me.

The barista’s weary smile,
All business, a pro,
Small talk is for the depraved,
Or those lonely fools,
Who mistake a smile for love,
And chase their coffee,
With pitiful fantasy.
A rhythm so smooth,
His exhausted nonchalance,
Just goes with the beat.

This one’s a to-go,
For this weary vinyl,
Is worn out enough.


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