Its 9:00 am,
zero hour.
Lingering on the last depressing tastes of Schwarzenegger-strong coffee
In a hip haven for coffee consumerism.
A pianist,
Skilled in mach speed finger movements,
Turns the notes of Monk and Mingus
Into rocks, which barrage the backs of my aching ears.

The buxom barista,
Stares with stone-like stoicism
At the mini masterpieces
On her fingernails
Oblivious to my shy pleas for more.
The cups keep stacking,
Building a monument to my madness.
It’s just too much.
I can’t keep running on these caffeine dreams of java rockets
With cranes and caribous sitting in City Brews
Telling me to espresso yourself
With another cup.
Quivering crazily,
My body on impulse begins to convulse
I’ve had too much joe,
not enough cream,
And FAR too much sugar.
Like an ill exorcist baby
The black bile erupts from my innards
Giving the place a new coat of putrid paint.
The player and the waitress stare awfully awestruck at the freakish fountain
As I begin to beg for forgiveness.
I stop moments later after spewing my apologies and lunch,
Staring at them for the eternity of a minute,
I gather myself together
And kindly,
Quickly,
Ask for another cup.