Is it more than lust? I ask

myself with a certain seriousness,

because I can’t, in recent memory,

recall being so very attracted


to a person. Perfection

is a word I have surreptitiously

removed from my vocabulary

so that it is no longer considered

a true piece of my scripted verbiage


though I contemplate it now.

She makes me contemplate it now.

It comes with the possibility

of moving towards something

I consider pleasurable.


I regard myself as one

who moves away from pain,

so the possibility of this

kicks me in the chest.


I want to know all about her,

completely and yes biblically,

and that thought brings

guilt, inbred from Catholicism.


Pretty in the face, cute

with the physical attributes

to boot, a smile that brightens

everything it reflects.


So with that is posed the question,

is this more than lust?


One thought on “My Barista

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