A Goa Restaurant Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

The Goa restaurant was in a quiet neighbourhood
a place with small shops selling domestic wares
of the things needed for everyday use
a place I would like to live instead of in a tower block
on entering the restaurant, I took a direct aversion
of the dark blue brocade covering the chairs and also
of the golden-painted walls, but let it pass.
The food we were served was good but ordinary
In the Indian style, they tend to use the same spices
so, all dishes that, in the end, taste the same.
We drank cold beer, and later, my wife had ice cream
and I had a cup of strong coffee.
When I lived in England, I used to after the pubs closed
go to an Asian restaurant to drink some more and
eat chicken with fries, but I can't remember if the food
was any good; the question is: am I racist, or is it
that I simply like European cuisine.