Bwog Staff is going to sleep tonight thinking only about their rebirth at the 114th Starbucks in the morning.
Every morning I am born new
I am the turkey bacon in the egg white and gouda womb,
cradled by the soft
I rush forward, propelled by my juices that taste
distinctly like a creme brûlée latte.
I am new. I am fresh. I am fed.
I s c r e a m.
Starbucks via Bwog Archives