Ode To a Latte

M. Fennell

Aug 1, 1995


Today I donned my first goatee
The mirror projected a new side of me
I knew I belonged where thoughts are deep
And where social consciousness never sleeps

To join this movement underground
I sought a conversant coffee crowd
And so I took those first steps down...

The room was dark and barely lit
In the corner a lonely poet sits
Ruminating as he sees fit
About the world and man’s place in it

I bought my latte, then sat down
and joined the friends I finally found

“Their solutions come to no avail”
Cried the man in the ponytail
“They ought to try our coffee chat
They’d soon quit their tit for tat”

Before I could enter with my reply
I heard the sound of a band nearby
We welcomed the sounds not asking why

The singer assumed a Zen like pose
Seemingly one with the microphone
He divulged his inner thoughts on stage
Expressing his fears and hope and rage

As the night became an early dawn
I ambled home with many yawns


Maybe the music got to me

Or maybe the talk or the hour,

or even the caffeine

But I couldn’t help but wonder

as I began to dream

Suppose Stalin of Hitler

had grown a goatee

or had tried a double latte

with extra cream


One the one hand, this is a culture I am part of...that coffee house beatnik artist crowd.

I do enjoy the people, the creativity, and the fun.


And yet, there are certain things to make fun of.

This is a world unto itself. There are regulars who go to the same coffee shop. It becomes a gathering place for liberal artist types.

People who go there a lot, those artist types who hang out at coffee places, usually have a certain view of the world.

So, this poem is some good natured teasing. I wanted to write something fun about some of the things that go on and get said in those places.