Come where the creatives flock

with Spartan appetite

and Herculean ambition.

Their conversations come in fragmented rhythm

and stick to you in bits:

two businesswomen brainstorm,

three screenwriters pick at a plot,

four friends catch up.

There sits the solitary scholar

sniffing at his textbook,

the buried novelist

bleeding from his bar stool,

the wide-eyed poet

blazing from her leather love seat-

God pokes them one by one,

trading Pollock-futures

for Angelo-destinies.

Tables littered with moleskin notebooks

and sticker-finished MacBooks-

MacBooks littered with "Meat is Murder,"

Patagonia, a pink whale, a cannabis leaf.

Fruit tart and dirty chai please.

That'll be all.

Fuel the mind, body, soul, friendship...

Come for the cold brew;

stay for what it sparks in you.