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Frappuccino Escapism

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He has the groceries,
He waits outside,
He taps his finger,
He groans dissatisfied.

She orders whipped cream with that,
She wears a blue purse,
She knows that everything goes good with black,
She has eyes of fire.

He has a beard that hugs his chin,
His hair frolics in outward spiraling curls,
He wears short sleeves and shorts,
His eyes are winter.

She is a spectacular nebula.
She is silent but her robe hums eloquently.
He is angry, but she doesn't care,
At least for a few moments,
He's been out of her hair



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