How separate we act,
all of us hunched at our own
little tables, rounded over
our thin paper cups,
mumbling into our phones,
or leaning into our laptop screens
or hidden behind the news
stretched out in black and white.
We frown when jostled,
we scowl when bumped,
we grimace at the din
of communion as our
selves steep into the blur—
do you want sugar with that—
it is bitter, the cup, and so
very much what we came here for.