The Smallpox Hospital, spectral and gray,
chosen for historic preservation,
an urban ruin with a grim dossier,
is meant to foster solemn contemplation
or at least some enlightening context,
reminding people things could be much worse,
so take a breath, try not to be too vexed
by fleeting worries which one can traverse.
Yet not all visitors take this on board;
last week I saw an angry adult here,
switch on a smart new phone, down which he roared
the following admonitory jeer:
" Listen, I ordered online, a latte, non-fat;
Just what exactly is so hard in that”?