Barista Girls by Night

Barista Girls by Night

     I stand in line, at the Coffee House, with a Blondie college girl. My mind is sunk deep in my inner sea. Her voice says, “Doesn’t that cake look delicious?” I’m not expecting the luck of a lovely’s attention. She points to me and says “Sir.” She repeats her sultry intonation “Doesn’t that cake look delicious?”
     I focus on her freshman face. I vocalize agreement with her on the dessert’s delectableness. I am stunned by her flirtatious inflection and wonder if this is my lucky day. Perhaps she is a spring flower in search of an autumn gent.
     She strikes up a conversation by asking me if I ever order pastries?
     I fumble my words “I get bagels.” She makes an ugh face as she recedes. Coffee will be my consolation prize.
     My angel of coffee stands behind the glass pastry shelves waiting to take my order. Her flirtatious smile glows with feminine love waves. I grin back in our dreamy duet. I read her glossy red lip rubric. Her corona of golden curls glows in haloed luster. Her belly button is displayed like a magic mushroom afloat in field of ivory.
     She turns and dips like a Goddess who stoops to conquer. Her pear shaped derriere stretches her jean seams. Her sister moons are bathed in the aureole of cocoa denim. I gaze upon her curves like an art patron in a Louvre of the mind.  Then I retreat to the patio to await her offering of beverage.
     My smiling coffee shop girl emerges into the dark night where I await her womanly presence like a pilgrim awaiting a visitation of Madonna. She bears my brew.
     She ascends the steps like a gymnast walking a bar. Holding the cup, she flamenco hip struts with her eyes glazed like a priestess in the throes of Orphic mysteries.
     She dips down kissing close, and places the mug on the table. Her lips sing “enjoy” and “goodnight.” She descends on winged feet.
     She beams back from the door “Goodnight.” The heady lilt of her parting melody is an aphrodisiac liquor.
     I savor my decafe while soaking in the dark roasted ambiance of fellow connoisseurs of coffee. My gaze focuses on a nearby girl who pecks her laptop keyboard. She is illuminated by the outdoor lamp. She is aglow with summery sensuality. Her hair is braided and her legs crossed. Her thigh quivers to her personal beat. Her shorts cling to her lush curves. My solicitous eyes drink her in. Her hips are the gates to paradise. She finally packs her computer into her satchel and leaves. My unrequited hunger smolders.
     Like a comet I am drawn back to the fount of my coffee. I am served by a Latino angel. Her earth tone face shines. Our eyes make love over the glass pastry shelves. I place my desire upon her counter. She fills it with pleasure.
     In my mind’s eye I see her undress for siesta to feel the cool breeze on her skin. She lies down on her stomach. Her softness melts into the mattress. Her twin mocha moons glisten with beads of body dew. But we are here in this place of refreshment.
    I wait under the black velvet sky for her. She emerges from coffee shadows into my patio of palms and flowers. Her legs glow cappuccino in the lamp light.  She ascends the steps while squatted as though dancing with the moon. Her smile sparkles like champagne.  In her hands she holds holy coffee. The sun between her legs is hidden by a denim eclipse. Her smile melts the glacier of my solitude.
    She dips like a sandpiper to serve me steaming brew. She places the grail of coffee upon the altar of my table. She plants her love seed “Enjoy” in  my secret garden. She returns with a cup of water which is consecrated by her girl touch.
     Her calypso eyes peer into my oblivion to smolder my soul with elegant embers of conga coquetry. Her aura wraps me in feathered trance. My gaze follows her flight, till the door closes behind her.
      I return to fill my cup of brew once more. The coffee shop girl beams love from eyes of blue. Her lustrous blonde strands are woven in canola braids of maiden splendor. I settle like a leaf on the patio where the scent of a smoker sweetens the night. There I wait for my golden haired angel to take wing into my cosmos and touch my kirlian aura.
     Under the lamp glow my freckled face girl flies like a song bird to my table. She breezes into my space like a prairie wind with a smile born of pasture sunrise. She is a southern flower child in her modest skirt, a quiet beige.
     She gazes from the heart of Buddha’s compassion. Her offering of coffee and a ring of bread is consecrated by love. She sings tender words into my solitude. Each of her mantra lilts vibrates my chakras.
     She pirouettes and ballet steps away. I gaze upon her fluttering departure. I am thirsty for the sparkle in her gemstone eyes aglow in a milky sea. I sip my coffee in quiet reverence.
      I linger in the courtyard.  A young, raven-haired woman stands on the steps, silhouetted by the outdoor light. She talks on her cell phone with a Latin accent. I watch as she stretches in her tight jeans.
     The Hispanic girl walks up to a bright orange orchid, holds it, and breathes in the fragrance. I fancy the inside sweetness of her floral arrangements.
     I return to the fount of steaming delight. The Barista Girl’s impish smile draws me closer and her cheek dimples tickle my fancy. Her moonshine eyes glitter, born of sly intentions on my vulnerable male libido.
     She pours my decafé while I watch her legs  through the slit in her frock till she pirouettes with brew in hand. Her smirk sends stars spinning through me which spark my bonfire into blazing fullness.
     She offers to serve me at a table. I recede into the vaulted church of coffee. My hands quake with desire. She bears a bagel in china hands. I offer thanks and silently pray.
     She says “Enjoy” smooth as bourbon poured in liquid love. I gaze upon her arranging chairs ,like a peeping Tom, electrified by her leg flashes. I savor her ivory musculature with the beverage a mere distraction in the coffee shop skin flick of this feminine paradise where fantasy fills in the blanks.
     Soon I finish my coffee but linger for a long time meditating on the paradise life could be in this bohemian oasis in which I soak till my mind is an island of Utopia.
     My sojourn in this place of artfully delicate beauty draws me back for the essence of sacramental beans and knowing smiles.
     The hourglass sands empty into eternity. The sacred space is to close forever. It is to be deconsecrated into a restaurant.  One day a coffee shop girl’s smile opens up doorways to heaven in the sunken labyrinth of my heart. She holds in her hands the water of life. I reach out to grasp it so she can let go. The lullaby of her lilt tells me it is ok to say goodbye; that we’ll meet again in another life; when coffee flows like a river to fill my thirsty loneliness. I sit under the vaulted ceilings which form this church of coffee where I worship the female mystique.
     On Christmas Eve the Coffee Shop’s iconic, jasmine-covered iron gates shut. The last mug of brew is served. But beauty endures; though she lies wounded; struck down by the sword of greed.
     A bewildered flower girl, who roams the neighborhood in search of Bohemia, lays a wisteria wreath upon the iron portals of Eden lost.
     An angel holds the girl’s hand and opens the gates. The heavenly companion leads the girl into the coffee shrine. The lass awakens at her  table to see students reading books, pecking keyboards, and huddled in groups around tables. The golden thread to the future lies ahead.
     The flower girl is greeted by a magnolia child who beams forest love. This worker glows a  tupelo honey smile which is sweet as sassafras tea. Her camellia hands serve starry eyed students lost in the Arcadia of youth. They dip their tongues into sacramental bean beverages to taste the collectivist dream of mocha freedom. A steaming mug is offered in china doll hands to the bohemian damsel of brew.