Raspberry Café

Raspberry Café

red morning ashes blowin’ down 

fog street.

 

Jiminy Cricket poking pin-eyed

behind hot rod racing coffee pots, 

gasping.. give a little whistle.

 

Torn page Charlie

spread eagle to the firewall winds

 

and the CRS begins shadow push-ups

in the mad hatter morning scramble.

 

Rue Des Martyrs

nervous chocolatiers 

deep fried in fear dripping

fragile jam on the

hard to fathom floor.

 

Rain’s soft-sweet curled nipples

freedom’s faint bugle cries

what we need here is a good musical romp

revolution magma roasting our 

perky sullen-no-more red sole shoes.

 

Dig dog

licking the acid street rain

hallucinating bell tower goddess howling 

bawdy balcony tunes

garland dangling her leftover January bosom

she chisels a big fried opera-dyed Auld Lang Syne.

Modest gains on streets of gold

candlelight vigil hangover

sleeping off

a windy cold carbon cartoon morning after, 

bloody mary.

 

What brings you to this house of prayer?

young bullet proof bog sniffing guard 

deep wire train eyes, asks.

 

We feel like praying

pray for the sick pray for light

pray for the soulbirds singing 

in the somewhere dark Charlie night.

 

Plant a rose in the garden of saints

roast marshmallows over holy coals

mumble sweet-nothings about

hairy merry hereafters.

 

Paris stir the new year kir

grumble like pigeons at the crystal clear

doors of Raspberry Café

hearts made to bark

between bites of carry-on cheery crumble.

Poem Michael D. Amitin,
Photograph Julie Peiffer