Decaf Latte by Jim Healy

Somehow in the shuffle of years
I find myself in Starbucks incanting
Strange words that would have been to my father
Just coffee.
Yet I am neither trendy
Nor original as I stand aware among mothers
Dealt hands of children and spandex bike shorts
In defiance of their thirties. Somewhere along
The way I have been embraced by the cliche
Of being different and no longer insist
It be medium but accept it as grande.