Sunday, April 15, 2012

Crisis at Starbucks

Hand in hand they
lost each other
between sips of foam
and swirls of caramel.

When they met, they
had to choose between
food and Foucault.
They'd both been
unhappy in happy relationships and
happy in unhappy relationships.

They joined forces,
became allies.
Countless days
 and even more nights,
afternoon walks and
midnight fights.
Distributed clothes and utensils
in their cabins
until they found a home. 

A home.

But between quiche forms and
high thread count bed sheets
they stopped talking.
Osmosis replaced communication.

So they went where
modern campaigns started.
To end it. To talk.
They took a final sip,
licked foam
off their lips,
opened their mouths
and -

"I'm claiming the right to be unhappy."

They smiled. And it all came back.

1 comment:

  1. nice! and most certainly the herald of a new poetic movement that should be aptly called starbucks romanticism