Sat with my back to the TV in the scruffy café,
that serves good food and has a clean kitchen,
having my lunch. In front of me a group of men
lunching too while watching the news.

Didn’t have to turn and look knew it would be
tanks lumbering about in the sand and soldiers,
in newly laundered combat fatigue looking
impossible clean; but their guns are real.

A Washington politician spoke about democracy
with missionary zeal, why war was necessary and
discrediting peace marchers into silence, the café
audience looked bored, more tanks and guns please.

A man had shotgun killed his wife in a jealous fit,
she liked to go dancing, the café audience laughed.
I wondered if he sat in his cell now holding onto his
rage protecting himself from the horror of his action.

When serious men in suits sat around a table talking
about a war people don’t want but find their protest
democratically ignored it was time
for coffee, yawn, smoke cigarettes and idly talk about work.