Still Life of Starbucks - a Poem

Love over Coffee at the Beach

Still Life of Starbucks

Most people recognize where mermaids
skinny-dip underneath that famous
circular ridge crowned by coffee-
stained footprints (or sometimes
     monofin smears) to the melody
of barista love promises (that often
     bring tears). It’s served anytime
at B degrees, with a star
     and an un-
         determined number
of bucks on the side. A tight
seal holds its stormy contents
and the aroma of home
     within, while the ebony
liquid upsurge laps at craggy
tongue’s shore. Petite enough
to fit in a pocket or
the palm of a hand, but
     take heed. The number three
and a warning the contents
are too hot is largely ignored
by sleepers enchanted
     from the song
of the sirens, seeking only
a morning caffeine fix before
swimming to shore to start
a workday based not in fable,
but in the modern-day world
where they think 

     mermaids
       don’t 

         exist. 

***