"mochas" poems
Moments
Like ordering two mochas
Just to watch you make them
Forgetting your name five times
Before getting your phone number
Wiping chocolate off your shirt
Trying unsuccessfully to flirt my way
Out of spilling on you
Little moments
Like finally having the guts to ask you out
Running to the coffee shop full speed
Just to find out it was your day off
Sulking my way through my third cup of tea
Cursing the fates for their insolence
Right until you walked in to cover someone else's shift
And running out too scared again
Little moments like those
Remind me why I fight through
Big times like these
Little moments
Like driving over the mountains
To get to the first big storm
Just to be the first ones to kiss in the rain
After the summer sun chapped our lips so long
We forgot the taste of our kiss
Little moments
Like the first time I took you out in heels
And you spent the whole night
Whispering to yourself about not falling
Right up until I fell twice
Down a flight of stairs
And for you
Little moments
Like you running over to pick my head up
Off the concrete
Staring at me with this look
That made me want to ask you if you were okay
Little moments
Like that remind me
That the big times like these
Are worth fighting for
That the big fights like these
Are worth ending
If only for the shot to have one more
Little moment
Like
A movie perfect scene in the snow
With snow ball fights, snow angels
And a snow man with coal for buttons
Eyes, mouth, sticks for arms and a scarf
But we didn't have a carrot
So you ran upstairs, broke off one of your heels
And called him Stalleto-face for a week
Little moments
Like
Burning three attempts at chicken cord en bleu
And begging the old woman on the phone
To put in one more order before they closed
And tipping $100 just to have the chance
To eat midnight fried rice on the living room floor
Because the table was full of
Foiled attempts at cooking
Little moments
Like those
So dear to me
Remind me there is no fight too big
To give up little moments with you
Nov 18, 2009
Nov 18, 2009 at 4:58 PM UTC
1537
Candor—my tepid friend—
Come not to play with me—
The Myrrhs, and Mochas, of the Mind
Are its iniquity—
2.9k
It was when the anklet started fraying,
When I knew you’d never come back.
Maybe you’re body will return,
But you are lost,
And I am broken.
We weren’t always.
You were a psychology major,
And I worked at a deli.
We filled our daily mochas
With ignorance,
But of course,
It was topped with whipped bliss that was creamy and sweet and rolled down my throat like lava drooping down its volcanic fortress.
I rather be sick of you
Than missing you.
I can’t forget the turnover I felt
When the illuminating dancing flower maids in the streets of Boston turned gray.
You’re news stomped out,
They slapped me hard,
They grabbed you by your luscious mane
And dragged you away.
I know as time gets older it grows people out of shells,
Forcing their old skin to remain behind,
For it no longer has a purpose,
But I never thought your fresh soul
Would shed off your anklet too.
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 6:40 PM UTC
My mom had me when she was nineteen years old, but I wasn't an accident.
My mom had surgery the day before yesterday and I wasn't there to kiss her before she went in. She called me before and she left me a voicemail when she got out. She said she loved me and she missed me. I miss her too.
My mom hates washing more dishes than she has to, but she refuses to use the dish washer. We eat on paper plates and we have three sets of salad tongs that we got for free from Dion's Pizza. My mom goes to Sam's Club to buy Charmin and generic paper towels, she likes the hot dogs at Target, and she gets her iced non-fat mochas at McDonalds.
My mom is tiny. She weighs a hundred and ten pounds and is 5 feet 3 inches. She has fake ***** and long black hair down to her waist. She makes me feel safe.
My mom works two jobs, on top of taking care of three kids plus me. She makes Mama Mia mac and cheese, and Mama Mia meatloaf and Mama Mia fajitas, basically she makes food and calls it Mama Mia because she made it.
My mom is beautiful.
Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 9:39 AM UTC
Outside this window the air
bites the faces of pedestrians
in the streets below.
Despite the argument
between the bitter cold
and the approaching nightfall
the people seem happy
to ignore the tussle
that has begun to shake
the leaves from the trees.
The glass panes sweat
with nervous hot flashes.
The brightly lit coffee shop
is a sanctuary amidst
the concrete tundra.
People scurry to the red hue
that melodically flickers
like a rising fire.
Warm mochas and foaming milk
calm the chills and frighten
the geese from our skin.
While the sauna in their bellies
heat their core; for a short time
the grey skies are forgotten.
The substance numbs the cold.
But if the awareness of this chilly solstice
is put aside completely and preparation
for the snipping wind is side stepped,
then where would we be?
Happy to ignore our surroundings,
Content with freezing.
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 1:12 AM UTC
when i was younger
and thought myself clever
i mused that the owl,
in all her purported wisdom,
was asking the wrong question.
if one is to stay up all night ruminating,
shouldn’t her mantra be a bemused and heartfelt “why?”
now i am older.
and the questions leave me wanting.
except for maybe “who?”
(and perhaps “what?”
because there is something to be said
for caramel mochas
and shades of apple green
and endearing little love poems.)
but these days it’s mostly “who?”
Sep 9, 2012
Sep 9, 2012 at 4:14 PM UTC
Just be the **** ****** you desire
Just be their icon, diva, vogue, inspire!
Just shake that money-making waffle tale
And put it up for every market sale
Or be the coffee squirrel on the wheels
Just give me mochas, lattes – those the deals!
Don’t be so easy cheesy, take a shot!
You drink at Hortons’, baby? You are hot!
Don’t feel like ****** squirrel? Be the moose!
Hang out at Lake Louise with Branta goose
Just grab a Molson and then chill it out
Now, isn’t that what Canada’s about?
Just be polite today and I won’t bite
Just say you’re sorry when you are not right
Just be the polar teddy, be the loon
We’ll love you all the way from Earth to Moon
Apr 25, 2018
Apr 25, 2018 at 1:14 PM UTC
The thundercloud parking garage swallows me whole
and drains the authenticity from my smile.
The descending escalator sends me to my personal hell.
All I can think of is my counterfeit countenance
or the carefree singing voice of my mother.
I grasp at the sound, the long lost curl of her hair,
the sun of her eyes. It's like trying to catch smoke.
The tears before security tell me I'm not alone
though the final embrace of my mom disagrees.
She disappears, fades into the metal detectors.
I'm alone.
I float through the crowd, past half-machine men,
their brows furrowed in stone as they slice through lines
without one last look at the family they wish they had.
They race to winged robots that autograph the sky
like the parting at the end of a letter. The goodbye.
The stain mochas of Starbucks beckon me.
The neon magazines cheer at me from Hudson News.
Together, we watch the clouds gobble the planes,
mourn the farewell of the familiar, the leaving of love.
Rain pummels the windows like tears down a face.
Again, the machine men, the magazines and mochas
comfort and reassure everything will be alright.
Aug 27, 2010
Aug 27, 2010 at 9:55 AM UTC
my anger has manifested
into sore throats, the perpetual
swallow, even while you sleep--
that no saliva, cotton ball in your
chest soaking up the living, leaving
me high and dry, contemplating
the meaning of every idiom,
every moment, every customer
that orders five 20oz mochas
and doesn't leave a single
tip but works on the block
and complains about local
business.
Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 12:15 PM UTC
steamy mochas topped with foam,
lattes with caramel, chocolate, and hazelnut.
soaking up the shades of brown-
the walls, skintones, all within doors shut.
i let the scents of coffee beans and tea leaves
fill up my senses- breath drawn in deep-
released like soft wind against the trees.
the fumes, i could take in; this place in which i could fall asleep.
Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 12:20 PM UTC