BREAKFAST AT THE BELLE EPOQUE PATISSERIE

From somewhere deep within

I exhale a dull groan:

another angel has landed

in my orange juice,

the third one this week

and I’ve sworn to myself

I am done helping them out


This one is a creation

of pure, unadulterated beauty

I can hardly keep from crying

my eyes triple blink

washing away the wetness.

Against the tiny forehead

its majestic brown curls

are lacquered and sticky,

the face is in utter shock -

the poor attempt at doggy paddle,

swimming, it seems, is not 

one of God's lessons


I shake my head and peer 

into the gasping mouth

I light a cigarette

I’m no ones life guard

it’s not listening

the ears are clogged 

with acidic juice

I watch the morning traffic

spin around the park


Well, I’m justified,

If I save but one,

I'll have to 

save them all.

How else am I to get 

my vitamin C? 

Now fortified with protein.

How much does a celestial body weigh?

How much is my five a day?


Returning to the glass

there are no ripples

there is no movement 

I can no longer see the angel

I drain the glass

pay the cheque

and leave no tip