This hairy haiku happened:

Gross(iato):
Finishing the last sip of your caramel macchiato,
only to find a small, curly hair in the bottom of your cup

(ban on "bored" meetings)

ban on "bored" meetings:
espresso, shortbread cookies;
jazz records on low

Bookings a-Brewing

Randy Foster and I are currently booking the fall leg of our A Poet and a Politician Walk into a Coffee Bar... tea and coffee poetry tour.  Stay tuned for details!  You can also follow the tour as it unfolds and view photos, updates and more here.

(cardinal bathing)

cardinal bathing
under the coffee shop's
downspout

Jitters

It didn't last long.
And I'm sure

the sterile, hospital-

flavored walls and

floors didn't help.

The java joint's decor

was more akin

to a church

romper room

than a hip, cozy hang.

Failures aside,

every time I pass

that office space

in my college town,

I remember the

Styrofoam cups of

espresso I drank there

with my rock

band buddies

as we played

Uno and laughed

'til closing time.

The Mayan Mocha

Like Pop Rocks --
starts out sweet
and explodes in your mouth

Baptismal Brew

I've been told
that I behave like
Satan's handmaiden
before I have my
morning coffee.
My emotions
do a demon drop,
my fingertips
begin to itch
and my head spins around
like the bride of Chucky.
After the first few sips
of the redemptive brew,
I am baptized
into new life
or, at least,
a new day.

The Post-Vacation Blues (Salvation by Strawberries)

Today, my cubicle
feels like a cage.
I want to be
five hundred and
thirty-seven miles
away, sitting in my
favorite coffee shop
with a caramel latte
in one hand and
a book in the other.
I want to be in
the home of my
alma mater with
the one I love,
chasing sunsets
and sailboats and
strawberry Sundays.

Coffee by Domination

Coffee is a man's drink.
It is robust and hardy.
It's earthy and militant --
even when it's dressed up
with pumpkin spice creamer
and Sweet'N Low.
Coffee doesn't tiptoe like tea.
It busts down the door
and makes itself known.
It takes command and
shows you who's boss.
It drags you through the yard
or the office like a soldier
and takes you to the other side
of the mountain or your morning.
Coffee doesn't disappoint.
Whether it's a buzz or a BM
that you seek, coffee doesn't
let you down.
Coffee is a man's drink.

Joe and Lenny

A Jolt and a Jam

Friday mornings
are meant for
Lenny Kravitz tunes
and a good cup
of java. A
steamy, creamy
cup of joe and
Lenny's retro
rockers get me
bobbin' my head,
tappin' my feet and
sippin' to the beat.

Grounds for Investment

There's something about
a coffee shop. There's
a sense of life in
the scent of the brew.
It's the occasion to
have a conversation --
to share your heartbreak
with your best friend, to
give your heart to
the love of your life,
to reconnect with
the parent you haven't
spoken to in years.
It's a safe haven.
It's a place of
possibility. The
richness of the roast
grants a sort of
permission to relax
and invest yourself,
to invest your time,
invest your interest
in another. To drink
well, breathe deep
and speak often.

My Reading Interrupted by a Kiss

They walked in the door
hand in hand, the mother
first, followed by her
abnormally slender son.
Her offspring obviously
suffering from a disfiguring
physical condition, she
led the way through the
busy repair shop's customer
lounge. As we waited for
our names to be called,
some read, some talked
with inside voices, and
others watched the Channel
2 Morning News. The
young man leaned over
to his mother's ear and
uttered a few indistinguishable
syllables and she responded
in hushed tones. With a
mother's understanding, she
got up and poured her special
boy a cup of coffee and
served it with a stirring stick.
As he sucked the steaming
beverage through the
makeshift straw, he held
his Styrofoam cup carefully
while she poured a cup of
joe for herself. Once she sat
down again, he leaned over
and toasted a cheer to his
mom, tapping his white cup
against hers with a crooked
smile. Trying not to eavesdrop
or interrupt their tender
moment, my tears increased
as she leaned over and
kissed his sweet, distorted,
beautiful, little face.

© Amy E. Hall 2007

Bookstore Boar

"We have a no-snoring
policy," she assured me
from behind the counter.
The large man in the
true blue sweat suit and
camouflaged vest had been
disturbing my reading for
10 minutes and counting.
The deep, nasal vacuum
vortex sounded more like
an industrial machine
than a man. The barista
called for the manager
as I angrily took out
my notebook to write.

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Taste of Adulthood

"Why do I like coffee
so much?" I wonder, from
time to time. Perhaps
it's because Mom and
Dad drank it routinely
while I was growing
up. It seemed like
such an "adult" drink --
a special, yet necessary
treat -- with milk and
sugar each morning.
Or maybe because it
reminds me of my
college years --
discovering mochas,
hazelnut lattes, the smell
of espresso and the cool
coffeehouse culture.
I was finally a grown-up
enjoying the taste of
adulthood for myself.

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Slow Down

Sometimes people let caffeine
get the best of them. They walk
around like they've got bees
in their britches, like the world
is going to expire if they don't
stomp down the halls at lightening
speed. Some days I fear being
trampled to death, while in the
path of someone on the warpath
to a corporate meeting. Unless
it's a "dire emergency" -- the term
my sixth grade teacher,
Mrs. Brewer, used to refer to
restroom urgencies -- or,
heaven forbid, your loved one has
been in a terrible accident, there
is no need to walk like a power
walker on a mission (unless, of
course, you are a power walker
doing your workout routine). The
fault does not necessarily lie in
the hands of espresso addicts, but
perhaps with American culture
as a whole. Maybe if we all
slowed down enough to see the
chaos we create for ourselves,
we would actually be productive.

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

(the smell of a coffeehouse)

the smell of a coffeehouse:
one of the things I fell
in love with in college

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

(draining the last bit of)

draining the last bit of
froth from my coffee cup,
not wanting the evening to end

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Bookstore

The silence of readers reading,
the screech of the espresso machine,
the whispered conversations shared
between bites of bagel, biscotti and bisque,
each one a part of the quiet community --
learning, leaning and listening.

© 2007 Amy E. Hall

Another Work Poem

I write my best
poems at work on
company stationary
and company time
on rainy Fridays when
all I want to do is
escape to a coffee shop
or bookstore and sip
the day away surrounded
by books, magazines
and literary dreams.

© 2006 Amy E. Hall