Caramel mocha latte is that girl
across the room,
licking lips in triumph as you stare;
you're looking for a different
this morning.

Eyes flashing an alluring shade of
fingers twined as slender vines
about leggy stems she crosses
with a smile;
she know too well that
caffe Americana isn't your
first choice.

I can see it in your face;
you wonder if she's a double shot
cream and sugar or
nothing at all,
black bitterness.

Go on, taste.