Connected

... in the White Hart pub  on Commercial Road

things have changed.

It was dusky with smoke enhanced wood,

shadowy pew seats  and corners.

Now a glistening bar, stainless steel kitchen

and a chef's chalked board.

Black chandeliers and careless chairs.

Burgundy walls, sepia East End photos

and old road signs:

uneasy Cable Street chic.

The pumping Bach unsettles.

It's a hokey, vaunted field force here.

I'm trapped in trust fund trauma.   

I wallow in squid ink ice cream.

The manager beams an entrepreneurial smile.

'Do take a seat, madam,

Sebastian will bring your coffee over.'

The who?

The sighing cornice cringes at the alien style.

So, ok, it's time to do cool stuff.

Let's chase some shimmering realities.

We don't do lunch al desko chaps.

Not when there are person to person apps.

Chef grills the swordfish

while we look into internal memory.

Augmented vision, bring it on.

We are such stuff as dreams are made of.

Hey fridge, talk to me.

Mirror, tell me what to wear.

I know you're planning to.

Sebastian, street styled Shakespearian throwback

with tempestuous hair, approaches with the installation coffee.

He lands a foaming depth of comforting artistry.

Sebastian joshes 'Hi madam, having a good day?

There you go'

But his eyes say: 'I tried another life. It didn't work'.

Smarter experience. Enhanced interface.

Liz Callingham