A little grey at the edge of the cream White, wood grain, a contemporary Shop for espresso and ironic gestures Where the popular music chimes with The sound of a machine battering Steam through cow droppings and beans Denying the reality of a world that couldn't Care less about energy and caffeine as the passers By look in with hope and dripping eyes, lashing The inside with desire for the perfect minute, Sixty seconds of pure exchange, unmediated Knowing and capitulation to every dark want Hidden under green purple blue, straight face That only wants to break into a smile and forget Every propriety, dissolve into a mass of me and you And everything else, and here's hoping it happens Just often enough to keep the fire lit and another Log ready to furl the sidewalk step by step that leads To wherever we might be going next