Tag Archives: culaccino

Cafe Culaccino

Culacinno: noun; an Italian word describing the mark left on a surface by a cold glass.


In front of me, a brown-tinted awakening potion

Stirring; very slightly, occasionally.

Thick curls of steam, a warm devotion

And a single cube of sugar melting; slowly.


Time ticks by. People hastily rush off.

And yet somehow I’m frozen. So mesmerising,

The whirls of kaleidoscopic patterns are

Forming on the surface; so hypnotising.


A slight bump causes my trance to snap

Somebody accidentally spilled their cup

Midday scuffle, but simply breaks even

As the hand points its way on the number eleven


I return to my coffee, in the cush table I’m alone

By the window, society functioning, passersby on their phone

Nullified existences. Nearly industrial.

Lives of survival, technology and metal.


Time’s up. I sip the remaining scalding liquid down

Grab my hat and my case and head off to town

All that remains, a wispy ghost of my visit

A perfectly round mark on the wooden table, a cry of a soul in transit.

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