La Pavoni Love Call
Espresso, expresso, call it what you will.
It beckons me each afternoon,
until I’ve had my fill
One shot, two,
No more or I’ll quake, but
without the bittersweet brew,
I would surely ache.
Grind it long or short,
careful, not too fine.
I would not want my La Pavoni to
ever cry or whine.
Stamp it down, fit it in tight,
twist it on until it’s just right.
With your thumb, you press the button.
Hear the hum and feel the warm flush.
But wait, it’s not time, there’s no rush.
Listen for the gurgle, and then the hiss.
In just a few moments, you’ll find bliss.
Soon you’ll hear her low earthy call.
Now’s the time for you to really stand tall.
Pull the handle down hard and fast.
No need to be gentle, La Pavoni is built
to last.
Hear her sing and watch the nectar
flow.
Sometimes fast.
Sometimes slow.
See the crema on top, so frothy and rich.
What is that stuff anyway?
How does it come out that way?
Sugar? No that’s for tea.
I like my espresso pure.
But that’s just me.
In the tradition of Don Fanucci,
I suck it down with zest.
You know who I mean,
the Godfather guy,
the one with the white vest.
Don Fanucci: Espresso Lover
And then it’s over,
my cup drained and done.
La Pavoni sighs,
her song sung.
And all that is left,
is a faint pungent flavor
on the tip of my tongue.
Fried Neck Bones...and some home fries 
Man, I know exactly what you’re talking about. So many times, espresso has made everything all right. I loved this. And I’m sure the La Pavoni folks would love it too.
“I need to wet my beak. Just a little.”
What do you expect from the Black Hand in a White Vest?