Coffee Hour

Saturday's fat paper up in
Harvest Bakery,
                with coffee and doughnuts
after half an hour with you.

At the same time my things
waltz through the mails, rumoured
never to be about to make
anybody a fortune.

How have we let the world
organise itself
without reference
to what we need
when at times there is
nothing between us,
not air, not a filament?

Why shouldn't we too visit
the stones of Troy, dally on
the Peacock Throne, see
silted-up docks and
the blockages at Ephesus?
perhaps after all it's not enough
to say we know and that's it,
that 'our mind to us an Empire is.'