The cafe is quiet
except for the constant
clicking of keyboard crickets.

The warmth of
a chai tea latte; blanketed
by it's Styrofoam vessel.

It never gets too cold in here
where the ivory youth outshine
the labor of darker shades of design.

All heads are bowed,
the offer of unconditional prayer.

Apple shaped God,
the remedy of hellish boredom,
dull each of the senses
tear away at the organic carcasses.

The exit is just as beautiful
as the entrance.

Existence is as ordinary
as the data and
chemicals; as lovely
as the cures
and poisons.

The cafe is quiet.