The coffee shop teems with people –
a ruck of millennials.
Thumbs flying, heads bent;
gaps in the line-up.
Gaps in the line-up –
but nobody cares; they have time.
My coffee break dissipates,
like the mud in my cup.
Like the mud in my cup,
there’s a sluggishness to the conversations
once they reach the till; a moment of re-orientation
to the present world.
To the present world
I say, ‘hang on’ – these sophists
will find their way, or the future boasts babies
with two thumbs per hand.