cafe de olla

i can see the strains of liquid sugar
pooling at the top
sweet, bitter dark,
smells of rotund oranges and burnt cinnamon sticks
everything circular, swirling

the sounds of grinding beans in the background
soft powder, fine
little green plants in white pots
crisp white walls
clean black letters
uncouth hip hop music
minimalistic prints
brown paper packages
full of the bliss of caffeine

a coffee mexicano
spiced
warm
and now gone

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