Standing in line
waiting for the coffee
the big guy in front of me
seemed to be having
a slight problem
“I said, triple Venti,
VENTI,
VENTI!!”
The place went silent
and the barista
turned red
It was not embarrassment
it was the kind of red that
crawls through the blood
when you want to tear
another human’s throat out
but the green apron you
happen to be wearing
forces you to respond
with respect
and a
calm disposition
He went on,
“So what the hell are
you gonna do about it?
What the HELL?”
“Sir, I uh…,” she said
“I want a MANAGER here
right now. RIGHT NOW,
I’m gonna have your JOB!”
he said
As John Mayer dribbled
gently over the speakers
I lost my patience
I swung low
taking the big guy
out at the knees
He got up fast and
threw a hard left
knocking me into the
Easter bunny display
I rolled through it
and came up standing
at the discount shelf
He moved at me in
a bum rush and
I took it straight
locking him
into a half-nelson
in mid-air
as we crashed
together through
the window
into the neighboring
Barnes & Noble
The barista at the machine
fired up the steam wand
and I dragged him over
and held his face
dangerously close to it
Someone
filled a Venti cup
with caramel and
poured it down his pants
The whole place was cheering
I let him slump to the floor
and finished him off by making
the drink he’d asked for
in less than a minute
handed it to him
and threw him out
the door
Citizen Journalist
cameras were
rolling
A group of Policemen
lifted me onto
their shoulders
and paraded me
around the shop
The mayor showed up
gave me a key
to the City of
Portland
The opening
notes of
“Imagine”
began
to
play
as I
pocketed
the key
and
walked
out
into
the
big
yellow
sun
Sipping
at
my
Au
Lait
_____________________________________
Robert Bruce is one of the most read, linked, loved and reviled poets working on the web. He writes at KNIFE GUN PEN every Monday from Portland, Ore. Get more over at Twitter. If this did something to you or for you, go ahead and spread it around...
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Hey, I know that guy! This was great.
I’ve been on many an adventure before–seems like years ago now, but that dominant male mochismo must still lurk inside somewhere.
Way to go, Superfriend!
..Good to see you got some sun up there too!
Ahh, this is a gem. Wouldn’t this make a tasty film short? Jan
I told you Bobby! Lets get started.
I thought I was the only one who had violent fantasies while standing in line. They’re usually prompted by someone who thinks cologne is an alternative to bathing.
I think the same guy was in front of me at DEQ. I wanted to slash his oversized truck tires for turning left in front of all of us who were waiting patiently to turn right. Then, I wanted to burn his harory forearm with the cigarette butt he flicked out the window. Finally I wanted to take that little excuse for a yappy canine creature he had in the front seat next to him and feed it to a real dog.
Does that sound too harsh?
Magnificent, my friend
I loved the whole idea of your little Walter Middy fantasy.
Okay corral dba starbucks….enter the unsuspecting poet…:) JC
OUTSTANDING! maybe you should have said the viking death prayer prior to bringing down the war hammer of wrath upon his cracking skull. Lo there I see this jackass before me…Lo there do I see my barista and my coffee and warhammer before me…they do call to me bid me take my place at the counter….
I felt some Boy Named Sue in this poem
thanks
LoL
I had your back Robert. You coulda kicked his ass. I had you covered. You shoulda done it.
hehe, funny! I’m always fantasizing about that stuff, but it never happens. I’m a ninja at heart though…
Robert, I sent this to Lauren our oldest daughter and the only official Starbucks barista in the family. She loved it! There have been times she could have used your expertise.
NICE . . . doesn’t sound like you woke any sleeping giants like you probably thought this poem would . . . just made a bunch of au lait drinkers shift in their seats. I would have kicked his ass with my free left hand and not spilled a drop of my vanilla breve latte held steady by my right. You pansy.
i worked at the symphony hall starbucks in downtown seattle throughout most of college. this would have been so perfect. =)
there really ARE people like that, and i think often what we’d like to do and what we wind up doing are so glaringly different. truly enjoyable to read this flight of imagination.
one time a bum stole our tip jar–it had a little buzzer on it, and the guy put it under his coat & denied it…but kept walking out with it anyway. a cool 20 bucks walked itself right out the door, theft-deterring buzzer and all!
Having worked retail, and having been a retail manager, I’ve with stood the brunt of many people’s bad days. It’s why I got out of that industry (longest 2 years of my life).
Why people feel the need to take their bad day out on some part-timer trying to make their way in the world, I’ll never know. Some are just predisposed to be jerks I guess…
Great read, thanks.
very amusing after spending this a.m. at the Starbucks annual meeting!
if only this was limited to the starbucks world. then again, i do things like stick people’s dogs with needles, so a little more is at stake.
brilliant, as usual.
Wow, I too find myself fighting the injustices of this world in the same manner.
But how many times must I check this in vain. Each monday I awake and eagerly pull up this site only to find that the american poet is silent.
My whole life, I have never understood poetry.
A few poems spoke to me here and there, but most of the time when my friends talked about great poets I would secretly think, “Who the hell cares about poetry?” (I was somewhat aware, though, that the problem was due to my own density and was at least smart enough to furrow my brow and nod knowingly lest I give myself away as a mental vegetable.)
This poem makes me get it. I love, love, love this poem. I see why people like poetry now.
Going to look at the rest of your site to see if you have any books I can buy now…
Well, after trying for way too long to figure out how to leave one of those trackback thingies, I’ll just leave a comment:
“Who the hell cares about poetry?”
I’ve been thinking about that ever since I discovered your work earlier this week. I wrote a post with my thoughts here:
http://www.conversiondiary.com/2008/04/art-secret-handshake-of-soul.html
I see why poetry is important now. Thank you for the inspiration.
that was awesome!! woohoo. I’ve had a fantasy all my life of hauling off and slugging some asshole right in the nose. Great read. thanks
“Someone
filled a Venti cup
with caramel and
poured it down his pants”
that
is
awesome
Robert