I walked into industrialized cafés throughout
asia minor and I kept thinking of the prehistoric
starbucks back in America as a kind kind of
mother church and of each mohammedan
swinging on Vienna’s gate to an’ fro at
the order of Kara Mustafa Pasha. Turks
handled the pelts of an American newspaper
as they would a Western bible – envious – and
licking their moustaches. They have no fez and
pray make Atatürk smile in his grave.
POPE BEATIFIES D’AVIANO
My cap, its white N and Y mating atop each other
catches their focuses in between blinks.
Sir, here your cappuccino Sir? Sir?
O O Ok. Thank you.
the waitress bustles back, suspicious, and trying to
pass this off as an awkward cuteness.
The rest regard, and loudly shuffle on to the next
section. Capuchins. Only if, further than the
Poor Clare order, one cowl forming part
Of a monk’s habit might have anticipated this.
D’Aviano must have recited battle salmos
in preparation to slay mohammedans
and cautiously, then, inspected and re-inspected
outside the gates before gutting the coffee sacks
that the Turks forgot. Thanking the Poles over some
coffee fashioned in sallets they must have
wondered about beans and colombia.
POPE: EU UNITY WILL BE MORE STABLE/ IF IT IS BASED ON ITS COMMON CHRISTIAN
What possibly could a frappuccino be?
Wiping several tables on the way, she makes way
toward me and in accented english whispers.
“Sir, sir – we apologize for thinking you are
American terrorist We know no terrorist could
come from the new york. They come from
texas and c-c-cali-califor-nia.”
For even the Pope everything is timing.