Freshly Brewed Trouble

First thing in the morning,

Or sometimes well towards the afternoon,

Only the thought of a hot white mocha

Can keep me from falling to the ground.

I live in the brewing pot of the U.S. of A.

The Babylon, if you will, of Coffee,

In all its permutations.

For the uninitiated, the green bean, the freshly pressed

To taste of Portland’s finest blackest nectar,

I give you the following:

Most famous of its caffeinated brethren, Starbucks--

Will likely find you before you find it.

Like the foggy, soggy streets of its Sound origins,

The Bux is bitter, dark, and misted with cinnamon and murky with cream.

Dutch Bros, on the other hand,

Has that southern Jeffersonian warmth,

Whose principal fault is that sweetness

Which goes straight to your head,

And will bite any visitors that stick around.

Another favorite is Ava Rosteria,

Deep and rich with the art

And care of Italy,

And will empty your wallet if you fail to pay attention.

Or perhaps you prefer something a little more quick,

And a little more easy.

In that case, I direct you to K & F on Clinton Street,

Which, like the fast, well-educated literary lovers of Stumptown,

Seems smooth, and light,

But if you’re not careful to catch him early,

Will literally keep you up all night.