A Poem for Peet’s Coffee Lovers
I’ve talked about Peet’s Coffee and Teas enough on this website to give yet another shameless (and unsolicited) advertisement for them. For me, Peet’s is that one place I can go where I’m undistracted from the internet, friends, and the endless list of things to do at home, plus with the extra high-octane coffee I am able to get superhuman amounts of work done. I’ve written too many papers, articles and read way to many books there not to have a special affinity for that space and their brew. And so the poem below really made me laugh. The brother of a friend of ours from church wrote this poem for the “Why I Love Peet’s” contest:
To Romeo & Juliet:
Me: But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?
It is the East, and Peet’s must be brewed before the sun!
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon
but wait until I’ve had my first cup.
That thou my coffee art far more fair than she.
It speaks, yet it says nothing.
What of that?
It is bold; and ’tis to me she speaks.
Twelve of the fairest blends in all the heaven
Having some business, do entreat my eyes
To twinkle in their cups till I return for a second.
As daylight doth a lamp; her rich, bold flavor through my taste buds stream so bright That my mind would sing and think it were not night.
See how she pours with a tilt of my hand.
O, that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch the beans that wrought you!
It speaks!
O, speak again (and again and again and again), bright (and perfectly balanced) angel, for thou art
As glorious to this morning, being in my mouth,
As is a winged messenger of heaven!
(After finishing my first cup):
O Peet’s, Peet’s! Wherefore art thou Peet’s?
Deny thy other coffee brands and refuse their name;
I have sworn my love,
And I’ll no longer be a Star**** drinker.
‘Tis but their name (and their burned coffee) that is my enemy.
What’s in a name? (well, if you want the best cup of coffee, everything!)
That which we call a coffee
By any other word than Peet’s would not taste as sweet.
All other coffees, doff thy name;
And for thy name, which is no part of thee,
Take a backseat to Peet’s.
Call me but a Peetnik, and I’ll be new baptized;
Henceforth I never will be anything less.