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jane taylor May 2016
raindrops faintly laughing as they prance
                                                along the leaves
watercress dancing gently twirling slowly
                                                          in the creek
a deer’s neck softly brushing like a whisper
                                                           against a tree
the sun is rising in the forest with hushed tones
                                                             of red on green
a brusk barista whose soul is wounded wants to cry
                                                               but bravely greets
the first blush of sweet dawn's morning ignites resplendent
                                                     ­                             things unseen
                                 

©2016janetaylor
Arianna Jan 19
"A jack-o'-lantern
Fell in your coffee, ma'am. Just
Watch out: he might bite!"
Navigating the morning migratory commute
      Mother Luna, Venus Magus, Jupiter Rex
      and little cygnets of pink appear
            —just for her

She hums a few notes
      from her Hildegard repertoire
             in memoriam
      to a mostly recycled paper cup
      organic hand-roasted coffee, fair trade
      brewed by a kid, her favorite barista
      because he can quote Albert Camus

She soars on a plain of existence
      Alto Cirrus Allegro
      where gods kibitz in several languages
            —at once
      on topics that span the gamut
      of not-so-trivial pursuits

My Pen, at her desk, preens her brand
       though this is the season of her last days
       an executive where money
            is unapologetically—God
       where women are hens
       recognized holistically
             as the large fleshy area
             that surrounds the ******

It's difficult paddling upstream
      in that sewage
      when you are a swan

That's why, I, her Cob who surely,
      surely by true gods that fly
               do not deserve
      such a precious spirit feather as she
      calls to her, waddles my mating dance
            —just for her
      spreads my wings
      to flap scents of sky in display for her
      cranes my neck to honk
      across interstate traffic
            and elevator gropes
      to bring her back here—home
our pond of still water
for LoML
Mary Shanti Oct 2018
Half calf with a twist
As the line stands
Thinking she is a superimposed *****
Foregoing on

Barista
Waist like an elastic band
Hair waving hello in it’s pinkness
Homeless man coming in
Screaming
Obscenities
Something about Romans and Euripides
As if in a round about
Circle the store like a hovered cloud
Then out again

The rocker dude sipping his tea
The older man in the corner
Who constantly leaves
Wandering where one can’t see
Trailing behind his laptop and keys
Somewhere in this madness loop
Latte’s and Macchiato's brew
And I
With a child's flair
Take it all in, while I throw back my hair
Barista bakje koffie voor me,
maak je warme kopjes klaar?
Het zoete smelt, mopjes waar
de hele zaak om lachen kan.

Iedereen vindt jou leuk en
wil jou in de zaal, in de keuken.
Lieve, bitterzwarte, melkloze tas,
ik wou dat ik jouw donkere chocolade was.
Dan lagen we op dezelfde ondertas of soutalloor
Lawrence Hall Jul 2018
The whole city is full of it – in the squares,
The coffee shops, the ‘blogs, the op-ed pieces
The emails, the news sites, the grocery stores
They are all busy arguing -

If you ask someone to give you change
He says the President is the Begotten One
If you inquire about the price of a croissant
You are told by way of reply that he is not

That the Supreme Court is greater, and that
The President is inferior; if you ask
“Is my cup of Blue Mountain ready?”
The barista answers that Congress is nothing

In the squares, the coffee shops, the ‘blogs,
The op-ed pieces – the whole city is full of it
Saint Gregory’s amused (one hopes) observation on the fondness of the population of Constantinople for arguing theology is well known, and is available at:

http://readthefathers.org/2012/08/19/patristic-theology-is-for-everyone/
woelita Feb 2018
The covers move on top of me. I roll on my side, groaning, and open one eye to scan the room for the culprit. Immediate regret. A dull grey light is spilling through the fourth story window, the kind that’s not-quite-sunny but still bright enough to kickstart today’s hangover. A camera falls from the bed-side table and the source reveals itself: Anna’s cat, a tabby, nameless and found mysteriously missing a tail near Saint Denis street four years ago. More groaning, but being more awake than not, I kick the covers off me and look at my phone. December 30th. Scared to check my texts, I’m suddenly flooded with the memory of drunkenly messaging friends I hadn’t spoken to in years, hoping they hadn’t succeeded in overcoming their weekend MDMA habit. Most of the replies went as expected: “Who’s this?”
“No one” I text back, throwing a pillow at my friend, finding an injustice in the fact that I was woken up by her nameless, tail-less cat.
“I know you’re awake.”  
She looks up, smiles sheepishly. When she gets up, the light catches the right side of her face and I can still see patches of glitter. I smile. Say, “I can’t believe this is the last time I’m going to see you.”
“I can’t believe I’m still wearing the same make up I had on three nights ago,” she shoots back.
“Always the sentimentalist,” I tease.
“Yeah, yeah. You’re coming to visit me anyway.” Right.

I smile nervously. Somehow it felt like I was breaking up with someone after a six year relationship. Not the kind where you’re necessarily in love with the person, but the kind you stay in out of comfort and because you don’t know where else to go.

11:51 AM
That morning we walked to a local cafe on Rue Ontario, the one we’ve passed by almost every Friday night for the past two years, sometimes dressed to go to the dep and argue over what mixes best with peach *****, other times wearing Red lipstick, laughing in the 3 am August breeze, cars honking and men gesturing for us to come closer (laughing, you explained to me once, if you’re from around here then you know about Rue Ontario.)

Joi de Vivre. Joy of ******* for cheap. Missed opportunities. Never realizing my full potential. My wife, she doesn’t love me no more.

Laughing.

I know what kind of girl you are.

Laughing.

*****, where are you going?

Laughing.

Frigid ****. Don’t go asking for it.

Dead pan.  “I’m fifteen, *******”

His turn. Laughing.

If you’re fifteen then I’m going to jail tonight!

11:52 AM

We order four polish donuts and coffee, sprinkled with cinnamon. “For the special occasion,” she tells the man behind the counter. Paul. I’m hit with the notion that I probably wont see Paul again either. My feet feel light, I forget my name. Forget to thank the barista as she hands me my coffee. We find a table next to an arrangement of biscuits with all the ingredients labeled in Polish, exchange stories about the first time we realized our vaginas could lubricate themselves. We exchange stories about the day we were born.

“Use protection!” I yell as she walks off. “Never,” she winks.

I forget my name.

That night she's on a flight to Portugal to be with a boy who’s just too busy to see her.

February 2, 2018
12:32 AM
But we’re so in love.
12:41
He’s just been really busy.

2:52 AM
I was so, so, busy.
Read √√

I’m sorry,
√√
I’m so so sorry.
√√


Find your friends!

Search: Anna

Location: 3,263 miles away.

February 11, 2018

I wear Red lipstick, wake up with glitter on my face. Laughing, laughing.
Hi! I'm annoyed that I can't remember how to use bold or italics on this site. If someone knows how to do this, please share as I feel like they are important in this particular piece. Thank you! <3

(I'm bad at being a millennial)
The Spider Apr 17
Around 930 AM.

My favorite barista is working today. His name is Zach. I was going to write about how badly i feel. I thought it was going to last because I got a positive feeling. It went away though. It was ruined by this ******* song. Now i can't stop imagining him with other people. Would my life be different if i never met him? I wonder where he would be and where i would be. Maybe the same place? Maybe not. Maybe I'd be worse off than i am now. Maybe he would've been better with Jessica. Or anyone else he would have met. I guess he missed a lot of better opportunities. It's easier to assume he doesn't care. If i convince myself that he hates me, maybe it'll be easier to control my feelings.

This is my life now and I ******* hate it. He just asked me to bring his xbox by. To drive all the ******* way back to my house and BACK AGAIN to his house. (Not to mention he BLEW ME OFF LATER IN THE DAY TO HANG OUT WITH MARIEM BUT WHATEVER).

Sometime before 10 pm

I am fuming tonight. How can he know everything that I'm feeling but keep me in the dark and not even try to tell me what he's feeling? How can he expect me to be perfect right off the bat? Does he???? I wonder if he expects me not to slip up. I wonder if his first immediate thought when I'm in a bad mood now is "has she really been trying to change?" The answer is yes, i have been. I've made a bigger effort now than i have ever made.

Space between paragraphs are breaks in my thoughts. I was raging out for the past few minutes. Silently fuming in my bedroom about that little mormon **** and the fact that he's with her right now. I probably shouldn't have written that about her just now. It was said out of anger, and anger makes people do unfortunate things sometimes. I think I just need to stop hanging onto the things that **** me off. Like the fact that at the end of the day, I'm only an afterthought to him. Or that he'd rather talk to anyone except me. Or that he's just too busy to care about me. I have to remember that "it's just not apparent right now." Maybe I just shouldn't care. It seems like that's exactly what he's doing. I could be wrong. I probably am. But he also doesn't seem to care about it enough to think about it like I do. I wish I was as gentle a soul as Little Latter Day Saint. Maybe then I'd be his type, and he'd take the time to think about it, but instead I'm just something to **** right now.

I'm getting angry again. I think I'll leave for now.
Ammy Nov 2018
The sky was filled with cumulonimbus clouds as they threatened to give way any time. Looking out of the window, I let out a little sigh.

Picking up my cup of cappuccino, I sipped it while opening a new tab to my email inbox.

The clouds remind me of you.

I hope you’re doing fine.

Things have been different ever since you went away, but I’m still trying to adjust to the current situation.

I remembered how I had first met you when you came to the bar where I was working as a barista.

It was raining that day and the café had fewer customers as compared to usual days.

You came in with an expressionless face and chose to sit at the furthest end of the counter – away from most of the crowd.

Shivering a little, you made eye contact with me and called me over.

You ordered something on the café’s hidden menu – Espresso with a hint of milk.

That was when we first started conversing.

“May I have an espresso with a hint of milk?”

“I’m surprised.”

“Sorry?”

“This is your first time coming here, isn’t it? Yet you are aware of our hidden menu.”

“I’m more surprised by how you’d know it’s my first time here.”

I brought your order and you gave me a smile so bright it stunned me.

It was really different from when you first stepped into the café.

“I like it here.”

I returned a smile and went back to my job.

From then on, you came quite often.

I’m not sure if it’s because you liked the atmosphere in the café but I was indeed elated to see you make return trips here.

Slowly, we started to chat more often whenever you came over and found out more about each other.

I loved animals.

You didn’t really take a liking to them.

Both of us love the aroma of coffee beans.

I hated whipped cream.

You loved it.

I liked bright colours.

You liked the monochrome range.

Your parents were hardly home.

My parents were always home.

I had siblings.

You were an only child.

I trusted people easily.

You never did until you really know them.

I liked being in a crowd.

You preferred solitude.

I joked that it’s because you liked solitude which was why you chose this particular seat.

You grinned at me, not saying a word.

Yet I knew what you wanted to say.

That’s right, Bingo.

You’d only order Espresso with a hint of milk.

It was always the same.

When we had few customers, I’d just lean on the counter and talk to you, watch you sip your espresso gracefully and letting out a contended sigh.

“I love the espresso here.”

“But why do you want a hint of milk in it?”

“I wanted to cover up part of the bitterness.”

“That’s so weird.”

“But that’s how I like my espressos.”

“Hmmm~ I only drink cappuccino.”

“And you’re working as a barista in a café. That’s weirder.”

“No it isn’t!”

I guess it was your queerness that attracted me.

After a period of time, we got closer and closer to each other.

That was also when we started going out for meals whenever I had the day off.

We built an unbreakable bond over the years.

But we were forced to separate.

Neither of us had control over it.

You

  
            Just
                


Left.

Things just changed.

I was in too much shock to respond when I heard what happened to you.

I tried to deny things.

But it was impossible.

I’d never have you by my side ever again.

I have been trying to comfort myself ever since then, telling myself that you would still be somewhere out there.

Watching over me.

Protecting me.

I hope you’re doing fine.

Maybe I’d meet you some day.




























If only Heaven accepted e-mails, I’d send you one everyday.

P.S. I really miss you.

P.P.S. A lot.
Karl Carandang Dec 2018
All the cafes on Katipunan avenue are closed except for this one

Pull open the door and spin the open sign clockwise as you pass by
Let the hours, seconds, days, minutes waft past you as you enter
Let them greet your nose one after another

Pull up a chair in this cafe
Order from the heavy-eyed sweet smiling barista.
Greet him and his smile, his smile that stares and winks at you

Order a breath of fresh night air
Or if you feel the need, order two with a shot of stars
Take with it a side of unfinished thinking

Of course, don't forget to pay
Transactions of confessions are accepted here
Although they might not give back change

Talk to the other patrons here
Exchange a stare, a glance, a forlorn look
Let your eyes do the whispering once again

Pull your drink and its warmth close to you
Like a smile at 3 AM, no teeth and all eyes
Wrap the silence of crickets, breath, and sky around you

You have work to undo

— The End —