The poem is a short, wry comment on how coffee has become the everyday drug of a whole culture. Calling it "our new speed" makes a cup of coffee sound like something stronger and a little illicit, while "All-American" in the title adds a hint of mockery, as if caffeine were a national habit people don't think much about.
The second line, "joy in 100 pieces," suggests that coffee hands out happiness in small, cheap, repeatable bits rather than one big feeling. The last two lines turn toward travel. The speaker seems to say that none of those little jolts costs as much as a journey "to a thin bed." Judging by the imagery, that could mean a plain room in some faraway place, somewhere you'd go to find real experience. So the poem sets easy, bought energy against the effort of actually going somewhere.
The mood is dry, lightly ironic, and a bit wistful. The speaker isn't angry, just quietly noticing how we settle for a quick fix.