September 24th, 2017 by Patrick Starks
Double or triple, I’d ponder, maybe even a quad, but I feared that make me a goner. There was at least seven behind me waiting to laugh at my rejection, but I couldn’t wait, I had to espresso my affection. Barista girls cheeks would then turn red as her chocolatey eyes sparkled, I could see my words were smooth enough to leave her somewhat startled. But coffee, my coffee as she stirs you up, can you feel through her delicate hands that I honestly had any luck. The numbers written on your forehead would tell me otherwise, as you now have become my greatest prize. The following day she and I would leave the park with coffee on the ground, love was in the air, for that even our coffee cups had found.