A poor petitioner spoke unto a grille; His need was simple, coffee ‘gainst the dawn. A voice metallic, disembodied, chill Chanted a liturgy through the speaker ‘phone:
“And would you like some sweetener with that? Sugar? Or chemicals, yellow or pink? Creamer, perhaps, no gluten and no fat; The selection is yours; what do you think?
“And, oh, yes, would you like to supersize Your order with a little bit of nosh? A doughnuts or bagel, some curly fries, Or a croissant with cream cheese, by gosh!”
(The reader pauses, then speaks the last two lines slowly)
Years passed, as did this tale of Kafka’s woe: He died while waiting for that cup of joe.