White, wide and stainless steel, it could not tip
and spill from the spastic action of hands.
It had integrity—and it saved ten
cents when I brought it with me to Starbucks.
Alas, I lost it at my Friends Meeting
and searching will not bring it home again.
Starbucks coffee—my guilty pleasure since
leaving UC Berkeley and Peet’s behind—
has little else to recommend it, save
its free Wi-Fi and its Moby Dick cup.
How could I leave it at my Friends Meeting?
bargaining will not bring it home again.
Its sweet combos and high prices disguise
Starbucks' weak tasteless roast and watery
foam, but this Moby-Dick cup—too fat for drink
holders—is worth its weight in dry paper.
Alas, I left it at my Friends Meeting
and praying will not bring it home again.
Maybe someone recognized its worth, and—
pleased to acquire it without transgressing
beliefs and the counter of Starbucks stores—
saw opportunity and took it home.
Lucky Ahab, whoever you may be,return my Moby Dick cup, please, to me.
A very silly Poem 17 inspired by Robert Brewer's 2016 April PAD Day 16 Challenge to write about or in a restaurant.
*Note: All April poem-a-day poems are rough drafts awaiting revision.
Copyright © 2016 Susan L. Chast