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Cream and Sugar
CREAM AND SUGAR
Do you ever get excited at the local restaurant place,
Where locals congregate to meet friends face-to-face?
The waitress comes right over and the first thing that she asks,
“How about a cup of coffee? I’ll bring it here quite fast.”
She’s as cute as any button, with a skirt that’s not too long,
No doubt she sees my eyes bug out and notes my rising dong.
Her voice sounds like an angel, inviting me to stay,
And spend some time together, like perhaps the whole long day.
Back to the coffee question, my mind comes back to now,
I mumble something strange, like, “Do I, mamm, and how!”
Her look betrays confusion, as she ponders my brief reply,
“I’ll get it right this moment, sir, “ she says with a loud sigh.
Now that is very nice of her, so anxious she is to please,
And with all the other customers, she’s busy as a bee.
She proceeds to bring the coffee, yep she does it straight away,
And as she sets it down before me, you always hear her say,
“Will you be wanting sugar; and how about some rich, white cream?”
And when I hear her ask that, I always start to dream.
Does she mean for my hot, black coffee, that’s not what I am thinking,
My loins begin to shudder at the thought of what I’m making.
“I don’t think that I’ll need it; I’ve brought my favorite kind,
It fills me up with richness, like a well-aged wine.
I may, however need, a favor if you could,
Some extra little napkins, just in case … well … if you would.”
She brought the extra napkins, and to the restroom I really rushed,
I could feel a swelling tension, and knew I soon would gush.
I got inside and locked the door, and unzipped my denim fly,
Pulled loose my rigid tool, watching white strings seek the sky.
I must have shot off several, it took forever, so it seemed,,
But when it stopped I looked in the mirror, I really seemed to gleam.
I went back to my table, and sat down satisfied,
My waitress looked at me sitting there and I know I heard her sigh.
She’s my favorite morning greeter, with a warm and lovely smile,
And coffee served by her is worth an extra mile.
She is, I think, my sugar … she really makes me beam.
From her I get my coffee; while from me I get the cream.
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Bottoms up.
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