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Cafe Prophets
Like some millenarian sect
we huddled over our espresso,
reading the bitter dregs,
auguries of something dark,
quoting Nietzsche dire,
plotting the world,
tilting at paper windmills,
drinking in the end of all that was nigh.
But the singer interrupted
and set us straight,
upbraiding our naivety,
setting a vision
of worlds yet unseen,
horizons unpassed,
lovers unheld,
life to be lived,
not in chairs
or thaumaturgy,
but in the muck and mess of life
out along the streets.
©Paul Vincent Cannon
Paul,
pvcann.com
