trapped in an Icelandic cafe
with nothing but vanilla beans
and shapely women in grey dresses
and hard-toed suede boots
drawing on the scents of ritual
and Nordic explorers
who left their genetic mark
visible by the blond barista
behind the chest-high counter
where you ordered your fifth petite four
and another round of lattes
for the Austrian students
who missed their connection to Vancouver
1 comment:
bueno
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