“I can’t get no satisfaction…” – Rolling Stones
Camille starts her day at Starbucks
where the body pierced, tattooed barista
is unable to correctly fill her simple order
for a latte, flubs counting change.
Later, she navigates crowded freeway.
Drivers wildly change lanes without
using their signals; slow cars obstruct traffic.
Cal-trans blocks the exit she needs.
Swerving to avoid a moron,
she watches as $5.00 of designer coffee
splashes into her lap, onto the seat where
it stains beige sweater, gray upholstery.
At her support group meeting,
she recites the opening preamble,
seethes, shares an inventory of grievances,
is anything but serene.