Must surrender to the weight
Of the non-refined sugar.
The coffees protective cloud
Has realized itself
Too sweet.
The final pinch, and
The crystals of fructose flavor
Descend, collapsing
Into the dark bathe
Of steamed vitality.
The cups flavor has been converted.
And at last, they swirl by way
Of a wooden stick,
Mixing into perfect harmony.
This cup is a tale of lovers,
A romance of unlikely beings
And for my morning, required.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
‘Taste’, St Andrews.
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