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Andrew, your theme's hilarious and then frightening---and needs more power;
that is, an intensification, single focus that might come from severe
compression.  Just a suggestion:  Take yourself out of the poem, and take
out the descriptions unless [very cryptic] of the speakers.  My guess is
that along the way you'll recall new descriptors, as well [whether of folks
from that experience or others].  Have fun, Andrew; it's well worth the
play.
Best,

Judy

2009/1/13 andrew burke <[log in to unmask]>

> I proffer this one up for discussionm - a second draft, so not even set in
> wet cement yet.
>
> *Coffee at Gloria Jean's*
>
>
>
> 'Keith the Butcher is better suited
>
> to conduct my funeral than
>
> Father Fahey,' Frank said in Gloria Jean's,
>
> the shopping centre café, coffee tasting
>
> of burnt tar, chocolate chip muffin
>
> crumbling on his off-white face.
>
> Mock-colonial windows framed smiling
>
> consumers sitting down to relieve aching backs
>
> and knotted varicose veins. 'None
>
> of that God stuff as they send me off,
>
> mate. Dead's dead, that's it.'
>
> I fore went a second cup, threaded
>
> my fingers through
>
> plastic hoops of supermarket
>
> bags, and stood to go. 'See ya, mate,'
>
> I said. 'Not if I see you first,' Frank retorted
>
> in place of wit. I waved
>
> a loose finger and headed for the car park,
>
> mentally ticking off the list as I went. Fingertips
>
> reddened and white welts pulsed as I
>
> propped the shopping against the back bumper,
>
> clicked unlock on the key and threw open
>
> the boot, thinking of the metaphors
>
> of everyday, the cryptic lyricism of
>
> an ancient tongue wriggling in the minds
>
> of late capitalist man. 'Hot enough
>
> for you?' said the woman from
>
> next door with Magic Happens on her back window.
>
> 'Sure is,' I smiled, surfacing
>
> from my reverie and dropping the boot.
>
>
> --
> Andrew
> http://hispirits.blogspot.com/
>