Starbucks Alchemy
Posted by Enmanuel Martinez | Filed under Poetry, Print
Sitting in that arm chair,
in that café,
in that kind of way that left me
almost invisible
yet still vulnerable and susceptible to
the charged pumping of espresso machines,
conversation cacophony,
overhead jazz jamboree.
Amongst all that joint discord
was, I think,
where I fist started
to believe.
Funny that we ended across
from one another—
the distance of the room diving
itself in between us.
This coffee-lounge congruity
was no coincidence
but some predestined synchronicity.
A novice spell caster’s attempt
at a love spell maybe?
Because there was something enchanting
about the manner which you wore that striped, collard shirt.
Crisscrossed lines leaving me
in a trance and under
the sorcery of your distanced presence.
Excuse me if I seemed bewitched,
but I was spellbound
by the influence of your strong chin
and soft eyes,
silver-frame glasses and full crescent of a smile.
Sitting there in that arm chair,
I could do nothing
but dream
of tasting the hot-chocolate off the corner of your lip
or the possibility of learning the essence
of your alchemy.
And you must have been a witchdoctor
because I was possessed
by the black art in your brown eyes,
voodoo in your dimples,
the smooth charm glistening off your soft lips.
Sitting there in that arm chair,
I imaged taking your clenched hands,
opening them like books.
Like a devout medieval monk,
I’d study hard those illuminated texts,
memorize the prophecy of promise
written within the lines of your palms.
Like an image of Adam and God,
the warm touch of your fingertips
would jumpstart my heart,
granting me the ability to believe.
Inspired by your mortal divinity,
I’d paint a picture of your remote beauty
and title it “Renaissance Man”
because your were
too good to be true
yet were…
A modern-day Leonardo,
with all his flaws and insecurities,
sipping commercial coffee,
reading Marx.
