There is a coffee shop I frequent
everything but the coffee a cliché
old building, exposed brick
plants, hand-lettered signs
roasting their own blends
alchemy of ‘house-made’ syrups –
lattes you long for, unsure why
depending on barista, music mix
runs the gamut from eclectic to
this one wasn’t until recently
lyrical angst served hot or iced
guitars heavier than the espresso
pay more for the coffee
chalk it up as a cover charge
On days when the clientele
is more plugged in
students, gig-economy nomads
filling table-for-two pews
deep in laptop, tablet hymnals
reverence punctuated by
staccato frother woosh
surprisingly on key and on beat
with whatever song is playing
I can only wonder
as I sit with my coffee,
notepad, pen if
even in my enlightened age
and stage in life I am
considered something of a
coffee house luddite
– Mark L. Lucker
© 2023
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd
Absolutely brilliant! Running my own cafe, I may be a bit biased, but I can’t help but love the emphasis on all things coffee shop culture. As a writer, the ambiance of such an environment invokes a glorious sense of nostalgia, reminding me of the days when I gathered my thoughts with eager anticipation to write and create before covid hit the world. I need to bring that feeling back and your poem hit that spot.
Thank you Ayah – glad you liked it…and took it in the spirit in which it was intended!