The automatic coffee machine dispenses
a predetermined shot of water
each time you push the button.
You think about it when
the coffee shows its true colors
dark brown and pale white splitting
three-quarters into the cup.
The first surreptitious sip was furtive
because you did not want
the man who made it
to feel judged as he was wiping the steaming wand.
You sit wondering
how an automated espresso machine
could dispense an incorrect volume of water
and cocoon your attention
towards the cup.
While there are black ceilings, copper-colored lampshades, an air
curtain affixed to a wooden plank, smoothly shaved legs and scrubbed
feet, the silhouette of a white vest beneath a thin blue shirt, and the
sauce from the mushroom filling vying for your attention.