McSorley’s Internet Cafe

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Where virtual folk with cappuccinos
gather at tables—
rock islands in zen gardens,
laptop-lit faces
and no one’s apt to step
into the raked spaces between,
to be hugged or nudged
at touch points in repartee
that flies back and forth
on waves of beer-scented
breath

Rather, they sit
tapping thoughts into capacitors
which are Bluetoothed into broadband
and bound for distant counterparts
in other states and hemispheres
instead of being uploaded to
that other E-cocooned human
less than three feet away, breathing
to the left of the stacked biscottis,
tapping too, but longing for a
real spontaneous embrace

Jim Culleny;
September 16, 2007

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