Espresso

Trumpets cry out from a golden stereo

I feel like a strange cross between a buffalo

And an exhausted rhino dragged by a tornado

Drawn to the hot smell of caffeine and tobacco

My mind returns from the bold indigo vertigo

By a willow tree in the eccentric streets of Chicago

As I take a sip of my double espresso

A see the golden gazing eyes of a crow

He seemed to be a regular to the meadow

And he was quick to go for my elbow

I had a salad with my risotto

Tomato, sweet potato, pistachio

And the soft green flesh of avocado

My little black fix made me glow

Perhaps I could go back to Moscow

Or sit in the picnics of Tokyo

Or the heart of Glasgow.

Wherever I go,

I will know

There will always be an espresso