Ode To a Latte
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 mans 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
Theyd 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 couldnt 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.