Café Con Leche

by Samuel De Lemos

I wake up, roll out of bed
stretch and yawn, tired…

I’ve been active in my dreams
chasing after imaginary flying women,
looking for crying babies
that turn into cats.
Making sure my sister-in-law
doesn’t get swept up by the waves.

I’ve run what amounts to
a marathon in my sleep and
I wake up from nights rest

The coffee is ready to be pressed
the hot dark liquid inside promises
a certain hummingbird buzz. I slowly press
down trying to suppress the anxiety
of my dreams.

I pick out a dark coffee mug
out of a plethora I’ve collected,
one that matches my mood.

Stir in the milk and sugar,
slowly, until
it becomes the color of
café con leche, the way my
grandma used to make it,

always reassuring,
soothing my morning soul.