Trumpets cry out from a golden stereo
I feel like a strange cross between a buffalo
And an exhausted rhino dragged by a tornado
Drawn to the hot smell of caffeine and tobacco
My mind returns from the bold indigo vertigo
By a willow tree in the eccentric streets of ChicagoAs I take a sip of my double espresso
A see the golden gazing eyes of a crow
He seemed to be a regular to the meadow
And he was quick to go for my elbowI had a salad with my risotto
Tomato, sweet potato, pistachio
And the soft green flesh of avocado
My little black fix made me glow
Perhaps I could go back to Moscow
Or sit in the picnics of TokyoOr the heart of Glasgow.
Wherever I go,
I will know
There will always be an espresso
YOU ARE READING
Drinking Poetry
PoetryBeat your thirst for poetry with fifty poems dedicated to various types of tea and coffee with some alcoholic drinks. Cover designed by @Matthaios_07