after 3 long years our antagonist finally tips her barista (and the trumpets blare!)
the blacks of my eyes swell and wholly eclipse
my soul and in the dawning of this love, the shadows
in my heart are forced torrentially ajar.
our communion in fine fettle, the kilter corrected
we together wallow in the exoneration; the leaf turned
anew, a thread of heather where once was blight.
i invite you, again, into this warmth… you cheapskate
fuckin’ con, for now, you are generously absolved.
4 thoughts on "after 3 long years our antagonist finally tips her barista (and the trumpets blare!)"
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this is a great expression
of the coffee house blues:
those not appreciative
of their barista
are going to HELL
haven’t commented, but read them all. This one here, you didn’t even need a poem, just the title would have been good enough. Love your stuff
never pondered how much suppression goes into the job
A new word for me, Ron, “fettle.” And a great title.