Paul J Penton – Songwriter

fragments & thoughts July 12

Sushi Emporium

Christmas tree lights
flash in the window
of a sushi emporium
California rolls
dressed in bands of seaweed
terriyaki chicken
cooked tuna
raw salmon
2.40 a go

the rice is sticky
the soy sauce
salty
there’s humming in the background
from a drinks machine
I’m tearing at the skin
with my gnashers
hot wasabi tingles
the rice flies in my mouth like kicked footballs
the tuna becomes a  paste
salty is all I taste

a TV plays in the background
competing with the sound
of pots and pans

Noodle world

A mixture of vegetables and sea food
toss in the air
cascading everywhere
but land back in the wok
he scrapes and grinds
rocking it again
the mixture flies
while the flame never dies
it’s on all the time
exhaust fans
suck out the life
until he’s done what is ordered
shoveled into a square box
that stands patient
as a Chinese guard from the Ming Dynasty

Eat at Joes

A cappucino machine hisses
steaming the water for my tea
English breakfast
the standard question
whenever you order this sort of thing
sometimes I trip them up
by saying Earl grey
or Lap -Sang Su Chong
but mostly it’s English Breakfast
Twinings
or some company who’ve made their
label look like theirs

Bacon is sizzling and crackling on the grill
the air conditioning makes the air still
but the roaring fans of the exhaust
beat the silence into submission
I wait and read the weekly specials
written in failing letters
in pasty chalk
today’s breakfast
bacon, eggs
toast and tea
the special
at Nine Fifty
suits me

He’s Greek is Joe
hard to hide it
I wonder how they make a living on this street
where so many others fail
it’s the exorbitant rents
I only know it through my hairdresser Joe
which happens to be the name
of the owner of this establishment
or that’s its name any way

Now Joe- the hairdresser
is an interesting character
seems to have sex on the brain
in  a reptilian way
but he’s not much younger than me
at about 40 he still sees
woman prancing by as something to ogle
and comment on
those days for me are long gone
‘though I still notice
but know this
those days are long gone
I wonder if Joe has children….
funny, never asked him

Outside of Joes [ the cafe]
on the footpath I have noticed ‘
on several occasions
the work of an artisan
set perfectly in the concrete
done just before it’s had time to set
the outline of an erect penis
the artists work preserved for aeons