Coffee And Tea

The arc of jetting liquid gleamed as it cut through the air,

Slightly dark, steaming, and beautiful

With disbelief worn on my face with tears of laughter

Welling up at the corner of my eyes.

That liquid was hot tea expelled from my mouth,

An impending disaster

Sailing through the crowded coffeehouse

Destined to hit the face of the beautiful girl sitting

Across from us,

Who had been reading in silence. 

The birth of this bubbling outburst

Was the simple answer

To a simple question

I had asked Samuel.

“Samuel,” I had asked, with my eye on the lovely glowing girl,

“What kind of girls do you dream about?”

I slowly lifted my teacup to my mouth,

Taking in a deep sweet sip of Earl Grey.

“Well,” said Samuel, raising his coffee cup,

“I like my women like I like my coffee.”

I rolled my eyes expecting a canned answer.

He paused for effect,

Not knowing that he would also be affecting

The bookworm across the way.

Samuel repeated,

“I like my women like I like my coffee;

Hot and bitter as fuck.”

The events that ensued

Ensured that I would not have a date with

My dream girl.