Deep inside this open-door cafe
a nervous sparrow lands on back
of chair next to one I occupy.
Fly on table top is perfectly still,
like nothing bad could ever happen.
How Boeing of this identifiable,
beautifully-crafted flying subject.
Nothing in this place is mine
except espresso in the tiny glass
because I paid for it. Sparrow
and fly are freeloaders, skilled
thieves with no currency or sense
of shame. We three are not really
together, do not have a common
language, could just as easily be
somewhere else but all landed here
with a clear sense of entitlement
for refreshment and relaxation.
Allan Lake is a migrant poet from Allover, Canada who now lives in Allover, Australia. Coincidence. He has published poems in 24 countries. His latest chapbook of poems, entitled ‘My Photos of Sicily’, was published by Ginninderra Press. It contains no photos, only poems.