cafe shabu

John Cale

Welcome to the cafîdhabu. permit me to introduce you to some of
our regulars. starting on my immediate left, ladies and
gentlemen, here in cafîdhabu, you’ll note a poet, a man of
words by tr
And yes, that’s a refugee from an unnamed political philosophy,
come here to spread his message of joy and peace amongst us.
thank you very much sir. over here, next to him we see a lady
who has
Ed-in a lifestyle of the rich and famous for work with
underprivileged and exceptional children which I am sure makes
her very pleased with herself, ladies and gentlemen. sitting
next to her a m
Letters and words and moods. a man who spent most of his life
deceiving himself and now finds himself facing six years in
rehabilitation prison and a death sentence on the outside.
sitting next
Im on a banquette, a ballerina. she’s had two grapes, a raisin,
and a chicklet, and she’s full. in fact, she’s been stuffed for
years. next to her are two spinsters knitting their way in and
out
Arious predicaments coloure
D by the excesses of their ancestors. and close by them, some
surreal painter’s brooding over the very over-emphasis of
colour-violence. violence on the blue end of the scale. next to
them, two
Uty detectives checking each other out. next door to the
sugarholics, see them shivering, see them staring into the
distance, see them growing, oh, see them go comatose. insulin
please, maitre d
My immediate right several politicians smiling lizard-like, see
them assure themselves that their status is indeed quo.

Rip up the cheques said the maitre d’. see if I care. I do this
for the company. I’ve got no-one to trust any secrets to but
myself. in the basement, in the vault, in the attic on the walls
are
Ictures I take in part-payment for my time. and the waitress
reminds you that in the backroom bathed in red, glowing with the
speed of light that reflects the demands of the living for the
dead,
Our angels, a host at your service to meet your every need. so
order up, the waitress said. our great cafîderves everything.