I so love my coffee shops, just to sit down with a book or maybe just looking around at all the people around you while sipping a perfectly made black as hell coffee.

Cafe Poems IV

gurgle, hiss relentlessly
to the click of cups
and clank of clogs
dragging on wooden planks

interjected by nasal drone
of one man expressing his
opinions

silence ensued when
old man with thick grey
mustache walked by
in s l o w m o t i o n
armed with a Caffe Latte

the jazz vocals struggle
to keep up with
sudden sharp ringing
of cellular phone
and the knocks of espresso filter
on countertop

jet black pulled into a rich pony tail
another draped in natural twirls
while the blonde’s smitten eyes
speak to frizzy curls

jet black picks out her gelato
and the march begins

so i sip my diluted iced coffee
and wish i could kiss the lips
of jet black with the innocent eyes.