The lukewarm caramel latte idles
in a cup crafted from ecology-crushing styrofoam
that causes teeth to clench
when it’s scratched by frayed fingernails.
The formerly frothy destroyer of doldrums
has been domesticated without dignity as a
liquid slacker stagnating since the last sip,
interrupted by a parcel drop-off
precipitating the zipping of Jordache jeans nabbed on eBay,
a tidal wave of work sweetened by a rush rate,
the spontaneity of a tension-killing twelve o’clock kiss,
a toddler’s tearful tumble off a rumpus-room rocking horse,
and a dozen daydreams of demolished dorms and finished friendships
as bittersweet as the neglected nectar
destined for perdition in the dumpster.
Adrian Slonaker zigzags back and forth across the Canadian/US border and works as a copywriter and copy editor. His work has been nominated for Best of the Net and has appeared in Pangolin Review, Aerodrome, WINK: Writers in the Know, and others. He is fond of rain, wrestling, owls, folkrock music and long chats with charmingly eccentric folks.