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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2212097-Coffeehouse-Hell
Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Personal · #2212097
About a place we have all been
The shiny lure that caught my eye:
“This location offers FREE Wi-Fi”.
The mood of the place was hard to tell,
Being lost in bread and espresso smells.

I order, then wiggle over to the corner booth,
where I sat with my laptop in hand.
I surprised myself by actually enjoying
the bounce of the nameless jazz band.

Yet soon the band and voices grate;
the low hum starts to rattle me.
I must work, think, emote, and write –
ah, but first, my RPG.

Headphones in place, I turn myself on;
digital worlds of magic and swords.
With Einstein proved right,
glows of computer light –
are where hours become absorbed.

Flashing awake to the smells,
the jazz band wails, “Oh, baby, take me back!”.
To blend with the sound, many sights around –
(Hmm, that barista sure has a nice rack!)

I shake my head, take a sip and bite of bread,
forgetting my coffee’s now cold.
Looking down at keys, wish my brain didn’t freeze –
damn, I hate getting old.

Wow, this place is distracting,
why’d I come here again?
Sure, Wi-Fi, that’s free.
Free Wi-Fi, old friend.

Can’t work at home,
too quiet, and alone.
So, to the jazz and coffee smells.

I wonder a lot if there is something I forgot.
(sigh) Should this feel so much like Hell?
Maybe the words in my obituary will be:
The cause of death was mediocrity.”
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