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February 15, 2006
cafe turistica
cold tile and shambles of rain
lace the bevelled runway
powerlines look to be
telegrams to incompletion
and a hollowed and bound feline
suspended from a hook,
is just part of a cure
for whatever ails the cause
guitarists unsure of their keys
lean beneath false domes
and pluck at sad trivialities
while the pigeons just add
to the general idea of confusion
tourists in their tourist costumes
sit behind windows and tables
in the tourist cafes
sipping on imported fare
and in their daydreams
in all their experiences
they see nothing
they seek nothing
nothing but home
I order some kind of soup
from a garbled looking man
working from a hole in the wall
something to warm my hands
and take my mind
away from itself
Posted by Drexler at February 15, 2006 02:37 PM