Poem written in two Starbucks[es] [not to be confused with a poem scribbled on an old Folgers Can by Mr. Coffee] Part 5 omitted in honor of Pavarotti
Poem written in two Starbucks[es]
[not to be confused with a poem scribbled on an old Folgers Can by Mr. Coffee] Part 5 omitted in honor of Pavarotti
For Haggard and Halloo on my 38th birthday (Sept. 27)
On One
..A base in the game-of-life,
this out-of-the- or dinary
gen er ic has been
many times slow-tipped-toed s ought
hide-n-shriek
s-t-r-e-a-(king) to the temple
of the green-gilled goddess
coffee-bean G O D I V A ..
..with curly Starbuck crown round standard black/white
hiked on a highest possible pole
[ you poor people who cannot afford dignity of name-brand posh—
{scrimpforit!} .. {bowdownandkissit!} .. {oryou’llmissit!}
Her whitecap streamers swish & flitter like 186,000 mph percolations
waving bye-long to gripe-days
as the divine stamp divides:
approved
accepted
endorsed
suitable
precise
sanction
the
correct
proper
and
customary
digestible
culinary
drip
How ceremonious can we get with the authentic authority in a world full of teeming bland?
To Two
Baristas brew at dark-thirty
driven by logo in tall grande venti
fly-the-recoop re[boot]ing
our feet to the [coffee] ground
..a push-start by the seasonal cinnamon push-cart
for our orna{mental} go-thru/drive-thru the motions
as we ponder while we plunder
Asia/Pacific Africa/Arabic Latin America
in blundering blenders
straining the childish grown-up burlap mishap.
there is a legal-drug awakening by the end-caps full
of musiks merchand(iced)
belting steam-rammed
jazz of black-boobed gals
& 10 generations of Marleys
backed by unsiphoned instrumental albums from former plip-plop hip-hoppers & crayola-sketched modern-art monkeys bicycling the insides of gadgets on the recycled-paper covers.
*All guests must wash hands after bathroom breaks so they may use the Socratic method to find Platonic love..
The Three
Oh how i lament
the reptiles who gave their lives for all
these turtlenecked
connoisseurs
who sip beneath cute AC chutes
sprinkling their nutmeg choco-latte’ vanilla
sugar-in-the-raw
whip-cream
near boil roast
of concoctions
[consequently, i like my women how i like my coffee]
..I’d give my left
Argyll sock
and
all 20 10 dollar gift cards with 87 cents left on them
for hi-speed Wireless laptop
lapdances
by these bubblonic
sorority girls
fizzling the fast safety internet
ala gift of gab and garb
+ bargain bags;
..and painted toenails
glitter
flowers
on the big piggy
between upper-crust
flip-flops..
cause they are just so
filled to recommended
with
pure honest
lacking.
*Applications are on the pawns-only
chess tables
that won’t wobble
(even after not remembering
to forget that
a God-fearing man usually comes afterbeing a Man-fearing
man..)
For Four
Starbucks is a smoke-free bio-environment
whose shade-plied panes hold out
thick moon space
from framed diagrams of water-color cappuccino machines
funneling whinnies s atop double-decker buses
beside the wicker baskets of Gold Coast
Italian Roast
hanging lamps..
..the floor is gray ceramic tiles
woven from the ash
of past-life
java-opiatists..
glass cases of designer mugs with pics of mermaids and superimposed beans
are grabby souvenirs so near our needs when we’re away..
%ALSO: (they go well with take-home Rift Valley/Tanzanian totties
or Tazo Teas with sweet cakes)
..the scrambled mosaics by the menu rearrange for life’s answers..
(and are available online and can be installed by Home Depot people)..
Little known secret: I work for Starbucks. It’s one of the things I do. Your head is my head, quasimofo. People make fun of me when they find out what I do, being so “edumacated” and all, and I remind them that I was once a high school teacher in urban michigan, and if they find my job, can they let me know? Unemployment in the mitten: 7.6%
But enough about me. I obviously resonate with this piece of nearly unreadable insanity. That’s not an insult. I kinda feel like I just tried reading Infinite Jest again. I’m on page, like, 642. Your poem is dense and rewarding. Starbucks is a crazy crossroads of corporate mastery and dirt (the beans and where they come from). Sometimes I lose my head in there too, except I’m behind the bar, making your drink and smiling.
yeah, the poem comes across as a backhanded compliment grudgingly given, but truth is, i go to Starbucks very often…even though it’s a corporate chain and all that stuff. i feel a certain restfulness and belonging, as do many others, and the poem is just a trip into the psychology of that allure. Misener, let me know whoever makes fun of you for working there and i’ll drive from ‘cowboy capital of the world’ texas to lansing and kick their fucking ass while sipping a mocha frapuchino. Then i’ll drive you down here and get you a teaching job at the prison i work at. In the meantime, turn up your Pavarotti, my friend, this is for you:
Fe-Fi Five (The Omitted)
Estimating “IS THIS IT ?”
swilling
Cafe Estima
before mating season
Coo-Cooing a rub-sorta-grind
with Yukon Verona Serena
dealt-it
smelt-it
rigidity = bending the rules
of the itty-bitty ding- dong-ditching rulers
in your imagined all-against-tall
made-up make-out
wilderness
imagination..
You have to pogo-stick to what
you’re good at and question mark
your territory:
“”why is my happy-medium making me miserable?””
..like you’re doin’ the whole down and out and out and about
multi-tasking while you’re multi-asking
soluble solutions
that don’t smoke
in chemical reactions
out of your element
in the
period{ic} chart which has no
particular rhyme of the month..
You Do It ..to be kind
responding
in kind {and yes, it takes all kinds}
cutting out the heart
in the heart of the
‘what’s the matter?’ ……….SsSsS..SPLAT…er!
Hey U Soggy Sappy Capital Mentality,
Where’s ow[!]er/(our) Vice-Versa Pas{sport Visa
for these
T /r A V e L s
iN
tHe
AgE
oF
bEvE}RaGe?