Cafe Rosso
By Rhiannon Hall

grey thunders Bowral skies
two women with windswept hair
warming over cannelloni, their cappuccinos cupped.

Lovers lean across tables, faces almost touch;
Order seafood—Grigliato Misto, white wine.

Big men, cocky as sunshine yellow parrots,
chucking back macchiatos; riffling work schedules,
envy every casual diner.

Waitresses flitting across the room,
enjoy sweet meringue aromas,
the delicate perfumes
of stout women waiting to pay.

This poem has been published in the August-September 2012 edition of Sotto, Australian Poetry's online journal.

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