They sit in groups

They sit in groups

Twos and threes

White noise

Spilling onto the pavement

Sitting alone is perfect

For coffee

The opinions of others crowd in

As crispy bacon is

Torn into pieces

I can smell it from two tables away

Carnivores in Jesus Creepers

A poster comes to life

Tossing Plath hair

Lazarus sits in the corner

Talking death with an undertaker

Wearing board shorts

I am in isolation

No man is one

But it is brave to try

There is less to overcome

The cruise ships

Sit in the harbour

Bigger than small towns

Perhaps people who like them

Should live in one

Instead of refugees

Lying at anchor off the coast

Waiting for the tide to change.

Why build walls

There is a chasm

As wide as an ocean

Between us and them.

I am always on the other side.

The wartime stereotype

Of bad English food prevails

Even when celebrity chefs

Abound

I blame the movies

But people will believe

As long as it is made easy

They always do.

Oh boy.

Another Michelin star

Who cares?

To eat there

It was worth it for the company

I knew her well.

Here, in Albert Park

Next to the Grocers

The coffee is good

The air is free

The space between us

Is as wide as ever

And I am safer on my own

Than fighting over spilled milk

Made from oats.

When I sowed mine

Years ago.