I like the buzz of the coffeehouse,
soothing to the ears,
and the quiet, classical music,
and the coffee-grinder's gears.
I like the marble conter-tops
like Italy come west,
and the native art from the coffee lands,
bringing my mind to rest
so I can get down to business:
lubricant thoughts that come,
and the lubricated flow from my pen,
amid this pleasant hum.
Max Reif
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/at-peets/
