• I peer at the sleep-deprived
    Worker bees, smiles so contrived,
    File into the dimly-lit café—
    I wonder if they’ll forget to pay.

    They smell of nippy showers
    And poor imitations of flowers.
    I wrinkle my nose and almost sneeze.
    To me their stench does not appease.

    The grinding of beans
    Trounce their complaints of teens.
    Too much goddamn caffeine, they say
    While ordering a double-shot latte.

    My coffee is done.
    It scalds my tongue
    But stimulates my senses
    With all its addictive pretenses.