For Alex, who is pedantic.
The apple crumble is landlocked, piled high behind the glass.
Closing time is an hour and a half.
I am not flying anywhere, nor am I waiting.
I am filling time.
Trying to care about printed words of stark fact and instruction which do not inspire my mind.
I am more interested in the cappuccino,
which is coffee by the way, just with added clouds of fluffy milk.
Perhaps not in Italy
Where Cappuccino is breakfast,
Coffee is short and black,
Sold in tiny little cups and drunk very fast.
am in Leeds.
We northern folk don’t think like that.
The cappuccino is my sea,
It soothes and washes the shores of my sometimes idle mind
As I peer out from behind my dusty glasses I see the world in 24 degrees.
Yet if I was to use a wider view (perhaps a 42)
My position would be somewhat larger than life.