Azar’s

‘There’s a nice café over there,
In the next street,’
The lady said,
And because she was nice,
We thought we’d try it.

In the next street,
There were, not one,
But five cafés –
One Spartan, one family-style,
One prim, one Italian,

And a last one
With a curious
Middle-eastern
Sort of name,
Spacious and gloomy inside.

A silver-haired man
Reads at a long table,
Latté in hand;
Bottles of home-made apple juice
Line the walls.

Behind the counter
Two young women in aprons
Prepare organic freezer-ready meals,
And baby fare
For the caring, Earth-conscious parent.

And on the wall
The menu shows the prices
Which are really rather high.

Yes, this is the one
The lady thought was nice.

---

Back to Selected Poems