Nimbin. Saturday, 5.40pm
To see the sun come shining through,
To smell the beans freshly brewed,
Beats from a passing Subaru,
This is the best a life can do.
Leaning back, in my chair,
The prodigal sun dries my hair,
I’ve emerged from my sodden lair,
A sunny day is one to share.
To share the joy of this sparkling day,
To mark the passing of the grey,
For me there is no better way,
Than to sit at a cafe.
Maybe the world’ll warm and end,
Maybe I’ll get slower NBN,
Maybe Korean bombs’ll descend,
But here and now, I can pretend…
Pretend the planet is in safe hands,
That sanity rules in all the lands,
That the barista truly understands,
The urgency of my caffeine demands.
Pretend the police will stay away,
Catch a real villain for their pay,
That the busker can really play,
That mine will be a perfect latte.
The sun shines on the bottle shop,
Illuminates the Kombis, drums and pot,
The murals glint above the shops,
And I await my double shot.
Sun and coffee, what could be better?
Oh, here comes my salad, rocket and fetta,
Blissful is this change of weather,
Cafe time, my Buddhist metta.
Yea, rain evaporates on the street,
Footprints left by naked feet,
Busker tunes and cafe seat,
This is what makes my life complete.
Or nearly complete; I have to share
That opposite me, there’s an empty chair,
And Love should be sitting there,
But she is… I know not where.
The thought is a gloomy cloud,
But here and now no cloud allowed,
‘Where’s that coffee?’ I say aloud,
‘Bring me coffee, and bring it now!’
You see, love needs only me,
Though two is nice (so is three!)
But now I love the maitre d’ –
He finally brings my coffee.