talk to me
Look at you sitting there. I know you want an audience. And, I want to listen. I am listening, I am always listening. I’ll sit here and allow you to tell me who you are, why you’re in this glass, why this position at a counter above a backless chair will hold me while I allow you to join moments of other memories upon my palette.
I know you’re not like other coffees. You’ve been roasted by a person who cared. But even before that, you lived in a land that I probably haven’t visited, by hands that I believe also cared and brought you to a point of being who you are right now, which right now, is the only time I’ll experience you, like this.
This day you were juicy: watery plums with melted caramel. You were a summer slip and slide, refreshing at each turn. You made me chuckle as if the fragmented properties of water were tickling me. I know the heat of your extraction paired with a house made macadamia nut milk made an impression upon the core of you, all details impacting your voice.
Yet, I believe you want me to do more than listen, you want me to feel you. You want me to know what it’s like to drink earth, sweat and hope. You want me to understand that these pillars of craft, yes premium coffee come the route of a special way. At times you’re endangered when the mass consumption of you is thwarted by the efforts to make you the same, like every other coffee. But it’s not who you are. You can’t be, you’re different and you’ll always be different to me. You are a seat at a premium table. Because of that, I don’t want to stop looking at you, nor will I. Looking at you means I get to see a symbol of myself, a symbol of something bigger than me, coffee.
Coffee Shop: Wide Eyes, Open Palms
Long Beach, CA