The Coffee Shop

I sat there sipping coffee, pencil tucked behind my ear
Taking a short Sabbath from the world
The shop was quiet, but I knew the time had almost come
When hordes of thirsty savages attack
Latte and biscotti, fellow patrons of the arts
We watched intently as the curtain rose

First there came a tough guy, cigarette behind his ear
Strutting in defiance of the world
He winked at the barista, but if overcharged a dime,
He would kill in a minute, she could tell
Arrogant, intimidating, cocky to the core
His pittbull eyes were white-hot spheres of coal

The door chimed, and in walked a suit, phone bluetoothed to his ear
Preparing for his conquest of the world
His voice was like a siren, and his smile photoshopped
His Ken-doll hair was untouched by the wind
His low-fat macchiato was slipped in a cardboard sleeve
And off he charged in lust for blood and gold

My eyes turned toward a teenage slug with headphones in his ears
Deliberately closed off from the world
His eyes and thumbs imprisoned by electronic cocaine
The touchscreen temptress wouldn't let him go
He chose to be an ignorant, consuming parasite
Society in need, his dying host

He sat there sipping coffee, pencil tucked behind his ear
Passing poet's judgment on the world
Pharisaic hypocrite, self-righteous, bitter soul
Why can't he see the plank in his own eye?
There was a wise man once who said, "Pride goes before a fall"
And like a scone, pretension goes with coffee