Satan’s Expresso Is The New Wife Beater

here we grind the beans

of corporate overreach,

coffee revivalists christening

the suit and tie division

with a new addictive religion,

it’s a purity prohibition,

a future heart condition

poured into a cardboard cup

with ‘Paul’ scrawled on it,

your mispronunciation 

of my name doesn’t 

make my drink 

taste any sweeter,

forget Stella Artois

“Satan’s expresso 

is the new wife beater”

seat shuffling

laptop huddling,

zoom meetings expire

 

“5pm is when the coffee’s 

exchanged for wine”

 

just before closing time

the pastor of the fine grind

tries preaching the properties 

of a regular Cappuccino,

what the hell does he know?

he’s only been a barista 

for a week, maybe three,

he’s a proper caffeine junkie

mainlining the finest 

Kenyan spice,

snorting coffee dust

is one hell of a vice,

there’s no high like it,

he’s got to up the potency

to keep the patrons humming,

we’ve got the Latte losers

the Cappuccino contingency,

the Ristretto religious community,

the Americano desperadoes,

the Irish coffee covert piss artists,

and finally, the barista hypnotists 

with their bean to cup magic tricks,

enticing the hot beverage analysts

out from their Mocha pits