The Perfect Panini

Watching children
ten steps behind their mam;
either trying to get in
or trying to get out
of their multi coloured prams;

Mini meanderthals
sausage roll in hand
pigeons pacing behind them
waiting for the crumbs to land;

Sitting next to the fish shop
being stared at by a dog
in the street; eating the best
damn panini I will probably
ever eat.

On the recommendation of a friend I visited a new coffee and deli shop in my home town. Sitting outside at the small table provided me with inspiration for the above poem, the words came easy and the panini went down even better. This is dedicated to Emma and Lee at Baileys Coffee Shop, Barnsley, South Yorkshire, England. We talked about Ted Hughes, Sylvia Plath and my other favourite topic: Chorizo sausage. I introduced Emma to “Haiku’s” and “found poetry”. I hope she will write some poems as good as she makes paninis.

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011

Sour Creamed Customer Service

You were anything but
your name-badge “Joy”;
with your sunken face and
sour demeanour,
your cigarette sallow skin,
covered bloodhound jowls as
you stood colder than the freezer.

You snatched my money and
without pleasantries or spoons
you thrust me my food
whilst simultaneously sucking
all the oxygen from the room.

You burnt my salad
with your scowl
and froze my cubed cheese
with your breath;
telepathically I tried to make you smile;
you serve food
not timeshares on behalf of death!

I wrote this on the back of my till receipt from my local supermarket.
I made the mistake of complaining about the quality of the meal I had been served. The manager brought over the canteen supervisor and I was transfixed by the fact that she was absolutely, 100% devoid of all human emotion. It was as if I were talking to a bowl of soup. I think I will print out a copy of this poem and put in in their suggestion box.

©  Copyright D. Archer October 2011