by Allan Lake
Only teenagers work at Cafe Hummingbird,
like same music: slow disco beat with paralysed
vocalist trying to decide how to end what remains
of a damaged life because fragile heart and spine
broke and now life’s a black, female dog that
should be put down. This song like last song,
forever and ever unless you pull a gun.
But I’m Australian and pack a pen
which frightens nobody.
I try to peruse newspaper, sip espresso,
watch silent movie glide past window but
‘music’ piddles on perception. Bad news.
A determined virus is out to kill a certain
rogue species that’s burdened by debt,
CO2, attitude. After stabbing myself
with teaspoon – not very hard –
and paying for bitter beverage,
I execute an exit and reset mind
by humming Aquas De Marco,
an old bossa tune about the beauty
of the ordinary. That’s the antidote,
in case you ever urgently need one.
If you’re human, you will need one.
About the author
Originally from Saskatchewan, Allan Lake has lived in Vancouver, Cape Breton Island, Ibiza, Tasmania & Melbourne. Poetry Collection: Sand in the Sole (Xlibris, 2014). Lake won Lost Tower Publications (UK) Comp 2017 & Melbourne Spoken Word Poetry Fest/The Dan 2018. Poetry Chapbook (Ginninderra Press, 2020): My Photos of Sicily.
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