Remember the days, not too far back,

Although eons in consequence,

When there were coffee houses in town,

And we dawdled for interminable hours,

Over interminable cups, without

A bouncer’s hint that we must leave.

In the coldest chill and penury,

The warmth of our converse made

Everything rich. And, gadgetless,

We pined to see more of each other.

Now we have gizmos for company,

And remotes where children used to be.

Words have become logos and conversation

Tags, and politics is all about the next

Inhuman wonder born of inanimate

Chip. Friends, now extinct, may come to

Life on occasion in monosyllables

Of irritation, relapsing into the broken

Water pipes that need repair.

We had few comforts then, but were

Rarely sick at heart. Our comforts now

Are many, with newer schemes multiplying

That mean to give us more instantly,

Yet how we would rather be wounded

Together in bales of  human care.

Coffee houses were thought dangerous

For instigating free and prolonged

Speech, and a bane to business to boot.

The politics of disaffection and collective

Cogitation made of them viper pits.

Stand-up bars now yield quick bites

And thankfully zero converse.

Hurry up, rush to the next bauble,

And let other entities take your place.

Say nothing lest we waste time

And  lose the race. There is nothing

More suspicious, says Big Brother,

Than one human being conversing

With another on matters that

Do not bear directly on national

Honour, surgical strike, and GDP.

Coffee cups may have been with

Loving brew wrought, but they surely

Were infected with subversive thought.

Let nothing brew, let all be instant,

Brewing is inimical to development.