Lit eZine Vol 4 | p-11 | POETRY | The Nameless, Placeless

SHORT POEM

THE NAMELESS, PLACELESS
by Allan Lake

So many great cafes in coffee-mad
Melbourne but I keep returning to this one
with its total lack of warmth or coolness.
Coffee’s fine but place is about as welcoming
as a hospital canteen. Art on the walls
strictly whatever from an op shop.
Waitpeople inform me – when asked –
that the owner never even visits anymore
so they just keep things ticking over
and collecting their minimum wages.
They are recent migrants, get to play
bad music in their own language all day.
Nobody dances or even chats, except on lap-
tops or phones. There is an emptiness that
defines placelessness even if now and then
it’s busy. No unholy ghosts, no dominant
character behind mumbling coffee machine,
no warm, familiar greetings when regulars
enter, no personality at large. Staff
efficiently do their duty, never more.
Why would they?

So why do I wander into such a space?
Drawn back, I return to zone out in bliss
of uncluttered Nothingness for the price
of a shot of espresso but without the effort
of chanting nonsense or getting into
uncomfortable yoga positions.