Vita baby!

– Café Muse –

Your hair-fling bewitchment
beguiles me;
muse of hazelnut-latté eyes and
a whipped-cream smile.
Your kisses would satisfy
the most ambitious sweet-tooth.
That’s my heart you are steaming to foam,
my mind you excite with your
double-caffeinated flair.
Your siren’s song has me shipwrecked
on a dry-roast wasteland.
I raise my mocha sails and set out
into the foaming cappucino seas;
I’ll be back again
in the java-toothed sunrise.

–

My small homage to beautiful café girls.
The weekend approacheth, fist raised high,
singing its battle march in a clear tenor.
“For those about to rock!”
Our house-warming party is tomorrow;
you are all invited.

Mark Helprin really does write like an angel.
An excerpt:

They glided over dimly lit roads, springing upon shocked families of deer that had an air of offended innocence, and which they sent white-tailed into the forest, carrying their solid six-foot horns like little battleaxes with which they smashed down waxy bushes bloody with red berries.

Something neat and scary about a novel
that reads like poetry.
I’m mostly envious.