Barista

I walk into an Uptown hug,

A blanket of warmth from the wet

And cold, with the strong smell

Of espresso and frothed milk.

There I see him at the counter,

My savior, my fulfillment with

His satisfying smile

And perfectly quaffed hair.

Dressed in a dapper ensemble,

He gracefully floats

From station to station,

Mixing the perfect honey potions.

I am surrounded by warm

Oak tables and chairs and leather

Laden seats like the inside

Of a warm hollow tree.

Little worker bees

pitter patter away on laptops

While sipping the sweet nectar

Of a creamy cappuccinos.

I order a warm mocha

With an extra shot.

His smooth voice buzzes

With cheery affirmation.

With perfect poise,

His hands nimbly work

To produce the perfect

Chocolatey nectar nel drip.

He passes the clever cup.

His delicate fingers touch

Mine; An electrical current

Stings through me.