Espresso Synesthesia
Many times I’ve pressed the lever
And watched the shot ooze from the spouts
Like mellow honey lather;
Counted breaths to time the shot,
Neglected pangs of hopes and doubts -
Each pull what another’s not.
Pressure varies with the tamp
(Too loose and I’ll fall clear through);
To make each grain hot and damp.
As this stroke wavered, lite or strong,
Sweet or bitter shifted too
In taste buds beside my tongue.
