Mercurial Blues
And other colors. Or flavors, really.
Monday afternoon, hot, sticky, damp.
To me, it’s a sign that I can finally get back to doing what I like to do, now that Mercury has almost righted himself.
I stopped by The Hideout to snag a quick shot of espresso on the way home. When it’s warm out, like that, I’m less interested in a tall cup of something hot, and more interested in a quick shot of caffeine to help me make it through the night. Or the afternoon, at least.
I stood at the counter, and looked up, the Virgo barista drifted towards me, and I noted on the menu, “out” stickers posted over most of the libations.
“How about,” I fumbled and mumbled, “an espresso shake?”
“Mexican Vanilla and a couple of shots of your espresso?” I asked.
Open Mic poetry night was getting started and I stared out the window, past the empty mic stand, thinking about nothing.
Whir. Steam. Blender noises. More ice cream. Finally – the perfect solution. The perfect combination. The perfect blend of flavors, substances and everything, just right.
Maybe, just maybe, Mercury times are over. Might be a signal.
The first sip was amazing. Tart espresso flavor backed up against creamy vanilla, rich and thick, like a good mole sauce. Cool yet warm.
Might be the sugar might be the caffeine, might be the setting sun, might be the long shadows starting to cool off the day. Might be that I finally shrugged out of the shirt. Cold be the downhill walk to the river.
Or might be, just once, the perfect espresso shake.
True perfection – only from a Virgo.
I was pretty high by the time I came slamming through the door. Upset the poor cat.
