Me, Myself and Cappuccino, A Poem by Chris Russell

You’re right. I’m over-analyzing.

It’s just a cappuccino.

But the experience of a cappuccino

is never just a cappuccino.

Actually, I’m watching the barista

make it and imagining I’m her

because there is a part of me

that wants to feel what it might be like

to pour down into myself

until whatever expectation of feeling

fulfilled I might have rises

to its edge and holds me to

a choice to either spill or not.

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