Thoughts of her
Like coffee, rich and pure
Flow through my veins,
And activate my brain.

She’s not a java bean
Grown high in Columbian mountains
But a living, breathing human being
Who opens my creative fountains.

I don’t need to get in line and stand
At a counter as a barista perspires
And order “Americana, double skinny, grande”
To be energized and inspired.

Her being physically close isn’t even required
To get my brain’s synapses connected and fired.