This Poem was Submitted By: Laura Lee Scott On Date: 2002-04-16 17:02:54 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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The compromise of coffee

I hate coffee and its yellow-teething,  stale-breathing, caffeine-craving cousins. Especially gourmet blends that relocate my money  to registers and tip jars, well-placed near a plate  of biscotti and scones. . . . Well,  except for the smell, of course, unavoidably sharp, lingering like a new friend, revealing uncanny similarities in that sliver-time  before we find  each other’s little flaws. It’s all about Aroma then,  wafting in amiably, like a warmhearted woman in  hip jeans and cool boots, who twinkles and flirts and gets extra punches on her card just for smiling near the counter. The door opens and she greets me, a fragrant invitation  streaming softly through kissable cocoa lips,  “Just espress-o yourself, dah’ling.” It’s hard to place blame when I’m hanging in her house, stealing snippets with her friends; she means well  in her trendy, bean roasted shell. I’m flattered that she thirsts  for a sip of my friendship.  (Hey, don’t we all mingle best with a cup or glass    of something good  in the bed of our hands?) My perfumed friend, so earthy like Sumatra, spicy like Arabian mocha, sweet as espresso roast, with a hint of Yukon-mellowness and Kenya’s citrus notes. Her secret?  Always opt  for a heavy dollop  of self-diluting whipped cream. Left at the mercy of my percolating beliefs, olfactory-imprisoned, searching for a social fix– I’d never offend such a gracious-smelling, well-grounded, satisfying host. I sigh and buy our compromise– decaf, skim milk, heavy on the Hershey’s, oh, and please go light on that mountain of white. So easily enticed,  whipped like good cream, I savor each tooth-staining drop, scoffing at myself– Yes, I’m just another  stale-breathed, penniless, coffee shop junkie,  high on spicy conversation and well-blended warmth.

Copyright © April 2002 Laura Lee Scott


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