Page 16 - Cafe Volume 1 - e-magzine

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Let’s drink to the voices,
for they give us not,

a world too vacuous to see.

Walk with me. We’ll see center town
now.

Niche to us dwellers.
Picturesque.

A sight you have to see.
There, the tall minaret. Engulfed by the

rabble.
Past that sobbing girl on her knees. Head for the park, we’ll lie down,

Do you see? where there run children amid rose
The demagogue rallies them all. bushes,

Every day, five times to be discreet. with thorns all over.
Chug what remains, Look to your left,

to men who are obedient. those constables seem electric,
Like to a honeycomb, and why not, they hold a manacled

what is a swarm of bees. adult.
The dead man has been avenged,

Stand by that poster-ridden pole, while It is pertinent to rejoice.
I refill our drinks. Drink to the arrest.

Read them I recommend. And fittingly so,
Melancholic indeed, to a dead man’s revenge.

all souls they say are missing. One last time.
But drinkable too, Follow me,

for the rescue department’s gaze lies Wobble to that drink’s cart.
unaltered. A praise to ourselves.

Here, I’ll pour you a cup. For everything we have drunk to,
To the department, that puts up posters. with all our good heart.

An act, unrequited.
To those who never quit. The sun is almost up.

To those who never take down posters. Let it shine on us sober.
To those who do their best. It has already for many a millennium,
each day.

Let’s hold each other, Why not let it once more.

we’re too drunk to walk sober. till it burns all over.