Modern Café
The café near the local petrol station and taken over
By people who had studied food catering when I opened
The theme was artistic copies of famous paintings and
Trained chef who saw themselves as creators of food art
The waiters wore black shirts and ditto trousers and
Where called sommeliers I think.
I ordered grilled mushroom got five on a big plate
Garnished with shredded carrots and a brush stroke of
A sauce rather like an abstract painting but if I want
To see art, at a gallery is better and much cheaper.
What happen to the guy in the backroom reeking of drink?
At least he could cook a hefty meal for a truck driver.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem