2001 Buno wrong

Annoying monkey chatter of,

Pompous people concerned with

China cups and cutlery.

A café of chomping, feeding figures,

Like buzzards ...

Talking like royalty ... Blah um blah.

Invasive conversation - in the air,

Like an unclaimed smell, stuck,

On white, paper laden tables,

Clark Gable's deep voice gruff ... how loud the sound,

Of Nanny Fine ..... The whine,

Of women - tit, tat, chatter, tweet tweet, like birds

At least that's what blokes call em.

Dining and eating and feeding and stuffing and wolfing

Food down - in a rage, against hunger, delicately

Her napkin - on lap it sat,

Wondering ... About the pork on her fork.

He thinks of fucking her, she wonders if

Her cleavage has been noticed -

By the guy on the other side of the room.

Militant figures.

Corporal table

Lieutenant chair,

Mam, be seated and eat or be shot,

With cum, he imagines ... And pants.

Fake plants, stained carpet, morone walls squeezing customers,

Into its cement womb,

Giving birth - under fluoro lights of

Emergency wards ...

People like ghosts,

Floating in and floating out.

Stained white plates like the air

'Don't worry sir that's just my hair,

Yes -

I have great tits sir, thankyou for noticing them

Through my pale blouse'.

I've searched,

And there's nothing on earth

Like Bunorong.

So just eat, engorge and explode,

Implode -

On salt and pepper shakers,

Flavour makers ...

Sticky surface he wipes - forgetting,

The sugar in his tea and purpose -

To eat here.

'You like?' she asks

'No ... I resent the act of eating', he replies

And leaves.