Can you feel that vague sense of euphoria welling up in the pit of your stomach, reaching up to your eyeballs? Do you know why its there, or what it’s trying to tell you?

I believe it’s saying: spring is here, be prosperous, multiply!

To that end, I know of no better aphrodisiac on a sunny afternoon like today than a strong double espresso straight out of the hot machine. I should know — I just drank one.

As the weather gets sunnier and warmer, so should our drinks get more muscly and audacious. But that doesn’t mean they should be bigger. On the contrary, it’s all about density of experience. The espresso is the diamond of caffeinated drinks.

The espresso is an elusive and elegant little thing, no larger than a shot of whiskey, but with a heart larger than beverages twice its size. Like a good kiss, it lasts no longer than a few moments, but you continue to taste it for a quarter of an hour. The first few minutes remind one roughly of riding a flying pirate ship through clouds and bursts of light, shooting cannonballs at the sun. After that the experience mellows, reminiscent more of galloping on the back of a silver stallion through perfumed meadows. After that it’s more like laying your head on a spongecake pillow and dozing off in a field of goose down and moss, except that you’re still awake because of the caffeine coursing through your veins.

In other words, spring is here, and we must respect nature by changing our beverage choices. Be rid of large cups of coffee that slosh around and turn your stomach into a waterbed. There is no place for them in spring. Spring is the season of lightness and renewal, not big sixteen ounce cups of brown swill. With our big cups of coffee we are like a herd of hippopotami slouching towards the muddy watering hole. Ridiculous! It’s spring! We should be like the gazelles, running and jumping, drinking espresso, embracing, laughing!

But one gets the uncomfortable sense that caffeine is mostly a tool nowadays, like a tractor, or an axe. Coffee allows you to get yourself out of bed, sit through lecture, get stuff done.

That’s why I like espresso. Espresso is not a tool, it’s a friend. I never insult my friend by trying to do things while we are together. We hang out and enjoy each other’s company, as it should be.

Like the language of poetry, or a guy with an inflated ego, espresso calls attention to itself. It waves up at you from out of its tiny cup-house. It says, “nothing is impossible, friend, with me ­— nothing.”

So I drink my friend. One or two sips is all it takes. And then we go out into the spring air, arm in arm, and think about cool stuff for a while.

Or that’s the way I look at it anyway.

So I say to you, spring is here, drink an espresso. Multiply if you can. If not, add, or even subtract if you must, but do something. Drink an espresso because spring is here, the sun is out, and I can see you’re starting to feel a little sleepy, no?