I Love You A Latte

by Charissa Pereira

Lover of my tongue.

Latte. 

Yes- espresso.

not what you were thinking.

You dirty chai minds. 

this isn’t your usual

love sicker than average poem 

It’s not about him and her, 

Or her and that, 

It’s about her, and yum. 

She breaks her fast with cinnamon heat

Tastebuds drenched-dancing in

hot milk from oats and loudly churned Devotion

pounded into powder siphoned into liquid fuel

Multi-tasking barista hands grabbing flaky croissants

while pushing powder into valves,

punching stoppers into steaming hot lids

screen finger taps and swivels forward for payment.

$8.00.

Espresso machine churns like a mini construction site.

BrrrrruuuuUuUMMMMMM.

Bacon sizzling on a pan in the back mixed with vanilla syrup pump breaths.

Eight American dollars.

Black digital numbers stark against a white, unforgiving screen.

demanding payment 

and also asking for a tip.

The two women behind start to shout over the espresso machine,

a squeaky high pitched soprano, squawking at a monotone alto.

A cacophonic duet dipping in and out of her ears

hands clutching the warmth

of her incredibly expensive cup of oat milk and ground beans.

Her flavored tongue grazes over her cinnamon stained lips 

sleepy eyes now wide awake

and open

to the cost of a small comfort in an uncomfortable city

to the price of  small piece of warmth on a cold winter’s day

Phone scan apple pay.

Ba-Bing!

Lover of my tongue 

yet enemy of my wallet. 

Drain me dry with your hot drip love 

as you fill me with your sweet milk sorcery.