At the East End Cafe
a Canadian folksinger
strums up a storm
on a guitar-
a bargain guitar-
he got $1000 off the price of it
We don’t know any of his songs

Locals tap their feet
to his rhythms
talk to people
they talk to every day
but louder tonight
fuelled by beer and wine
and a determined bonhomie

Ange and her girls
cook up a storm
behind the counter
serve us steaks
and real pizzas
and creme brulee

Late night kids
stroll outside
peer in - curious-
at the unaccustomed goings on

Beyond the plateglass windows
the inside lights
orange globes
reflect in the darkness
like floating pumpkins

I know the river lies out there
just moving on down to the sea