The colonial world has vanished
Leaving behind residues
Of a dreaming coffee culture,
Condensed in easy delays,
Camaraderie and bonhomie,
Where great plans were designed
To be safely executed
In some well-thought out future.
The world of poets, would-be writers,
Academics and English majors
Always had the right balance
Of creamy coffee, delays,
And desperate attempts to
Claim familiarity with The turbaned,
Starch-smelling waiter.
The thick china cups are gone,
The clatter of trays have become
A part of the auditory imagination,
The intellectual hubbub has gone too,
Now the new coffee shop advertises
A general pretense of hurry,
A business-like urgency,
To drink the coffee minus the solitude.

 © Mukesh Williams

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