Costa Coffee


The Barista bangs the glass containing hot milk
noisily on the counter, pauses, empties the cup
of strong, steaming black coffee into the glass, like silk
Sliding into the hot milk and colouring it up!

‘Enjoy!’ she commands, smiling at me, triumphant.
I carry my tray, a certain reverence for what is on it
to the table for two in the corner, one chair on a slant,
to view the comings and goings, the perfect place to sit.

People-watching, eavesdropping on the conversation
of strangers. I return my attention to my beverage,
sumptuous smell takes me away in transformation
to the sights, smells, foreign chatter, like turning a page.

Back into the past, where the colours were vibrant,
Love was in the air, horses galloping on the beach,
rich red Rioja wine, staccato heels, flamenco chant
all those memories passed me by, just out of reach.

Hiss of steam brings me back into the room,
Taking the glass in two hands I bring it to my lips
and take a sip. Coffee, vanilla, hot milk bloom
like an exotic plant that I devour with increasing sips.

Sigh of pleasure, eyes half closed in private bliss,
I crumble the chocolate Tiffin into bite sized pieces,
so I can savour each one like a popping chocolate kiss,
Costa Coffee is my secret pleasure, ever increases.

Swiping loyalty card, points to gain, so I can drink
a free coffee, such visceral pleasure in avoiding payment,
sets me free, writer’s reward, time to plan and think.
Free wi-fi the cherry on the cake – a sort of repayment.

© Carolina de la Cruz – 11th April 2012


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