one April dusk the
sallow street-lamps were turning
snowy against a west of robin’s egg blue when
i entered a mad street whose

mouth dripped with slavver of
spring
chased two flights of squirrel-stairs into
a mid-victorian attic which is known as
O ΠΑΡΞΕΝΩΝ
                      and having ordered
yaoorti from
Nicho’
settled my feet on the

ceiling inhaling six divine inches
of Haremina   in
the thick of the snick-
er of cards and smack of back-

gammon boards i was aware of an entirely
***** circle of habitués their
faces like cigarettebutts, chewed
with disdain,     led by a Jumpy

***** who played each
card as if it were a thunderbolt red-
hot     peeling
off huge slabs of a fuzzy

language with the aid of an exclamatory
tooth-pick
And who may that
be i said exhaling into

eternity as Nicho’ laid
before me bread
more downy than street-lamps
upon an almostclean

plate
“Achilles”
said
Nicho’

“and did you perhaps wish also shishkabob?”

The boss at christmas is named John
He runs a church festival on the church lawn
His staff doesn't know the difference
What? They ******* refference?
Between a platter and a plate
And I don't know what the hell I ate?
One Shishkabob and rice
Ain't that nice
Humus was so gross
From your heads to your toes
Taboule is suppose to be some kind of salad
Won't someone make this into a ballad?
Overpricing
and that's the icing!
Belly dancing
And people prancing
A band and A DJ
and that's okay!
What else more can I say?
After all these years he's still cheap
Leave a message after the beep!