Cafe of Lost Causes…1

Conception:  people talking at a counter.

She taking an order;  she giving.

They discuss politics;  she is a communist,

Old school:  The People’s flag is deepest red,

And she is not, and disagrees, athletically,

Enthusiastically.  Gesticulations abound.

With one wishing a conversion;  the other

In envy of such certitude.  Eventually,

The one leaves with a coffee and a muffin,

Pumpkin spice, this being October.

A toothy blonde steps to the counter;

She has a broken nose, but laughs it off.

She is a Marxist-Leninist, and she broke her nose,

Or rather, had it broken,

In a baseball game with anarchists  (a fall tradition)

Who, of course, recognized no rules.  However,

They lost the game when they abandoned the field in the eighth.

(The broken nose made it a Pyrrhic victory)

She waves Quotations from the Writings of Chairman Mao Tse-tung,

And leaves with a large latte.

The barista shouts “Proletarians of the world, unite!”

The next customer is a bozo in a baseball cap,

Emblazoned with “Obamanation!”

He says, “What the fuck is a proletarian?”

The barista smiles sweetly.

“You are.”

He says, “Far out.”

She says “$1.96”



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