POEMS


Grande drip with Room

Her skin was dark chocolate, her eyes were the type of ebony that can make a charcoal briquette seem albino, and her long black, straight hair flowed over her shoulders like the mane of a Sheik’s prized pure bred Arabian race horse galloping somewhere on the shore of the Red Sea

While she stood in front of me in the long Starbucks line, I dreamed of swimming in her darkness and expected her to order a mocha jamocha something or other

Suddenly my trance was broken when passing over the whitest teeth I’ve ever seen came the words: “I’ll have a tall drip with room.”