Across a vast majority of this town
a lonely routine circles around:
no one to stir
or consume my gracious ways.
A scoop of plain vanilla under bright sprinkles,
when the only thing that anyone wants is the cherry on top;
I yearn to be that sweet and juicy.
I want others to see me, to feel worthy to be seen.
Yet here I am watching
the line out the door, circling around the block
for the newest flavor of the month.
I consume negligence bit by bit
while those around me
devour sweetness by the scoopful.
Who am I to deny others what they crave?
They deserve to be happy with the flavor they choose.
And the chosen flavors deserve attention, too.
But I languish in my vanilla ways, wishing to be a little more
Rocky-Road-in-a-waffle-cone to draw in the crowds.
Don’t you dare say that vanilla is your flavor, that it’s the
most widely eaten, most available, most acceptable
flavor in history, that vanilla is the basis of
all candied creations to build upon…
As you pour on all your favorite toppings,
I am the one suffocating underneath.
Thanks for reading.
Coffee Shop Sessions 