Coffee Beans, A Love Story
Missed Connections in Brooklyn
coffee – a love story
Just another weekday morning, beginning with the ritual of coffee. You ordered one over ice. I ordered one over ice as well.
I got quite buzzed off that bean. You must have, too.
When you looked back, the door closing behind you, I thought for sure someone had slipped me some sort of double espresso.
There you went, out into Bloomberg’s NYC, long black hair and eyes glowing like a moon.
I took one last sip and you were gone.
I wrote you a poem:
“In the soft romance of evening,
where young dreams glow bright,
coffee is the perfect companion.”
See you next time at the coffee shop.
Her Two Cents
Euphoric from caffeine and a brief encounter with beauty, our Brooklyn poet tells the story of why coffee shops and tea houses have survived for centuries. Bars, nightclubs, and alcohol might be the setting for lust and all things sexual, but the cafe, with its small chairs and tables and brown earthy aromas is about finding romance, a kindred spirit, someone who inspires so much more than the ordinary.
