Walked into a quaint coffee shop… recommendation from an older lady across the quiet street. Early morning… before the hustle and bustle of church clothed families in search of their brunch. Her voice sounding cheerful but yet carried the note of one too many kisses of a cigarette… ‘if you’re looking for coffee, there’s a great place just around the corner’. The ambience of a half century ago filled the air. Rock legends, artist portrayals depicted in charcoal, young faces frozen in time of men now in their 70s and 80s that rock and roll took its toll upon, psychedelic concert posters… all the decor… truly a vibe. The barista, an older gentleman that perhaps rode a bike. Bearded. Gray. A rag. Turns out he’s Apache and Comanche. Who knew 👊🏽 Behind him on the shelf. I lost myself in time. Sat the same teacups my parents had when I was a child. I miss you dad. The menu itself had its own appeal… Purple Haze? What’s in that? All I heard was lavender and double shot of espresso… oh and cocoa. Yes, I’ll have that too… all these things that dance through my mind… Walt Whitman on the shelf, an elegant rotary phone, I wanted one. All in the time of the inhaled aroma to a finished cup of coffee ♥️