He clicked his pen-

He wrote:

''...All life should be free...''

Then

''...as it often comes at a price...' '

 

He coughed as he smoked.

He could hear

the call to prayer.

He closed the pad

and clicked the pen,

placing them both 

in a pocket.

 

The news-paper lay folded.

Opening it to an inside page

he studied the reports

of last-nights bombing.

 

He drank coffee and smoked

and looked people

in their eyes

from behind the

darkest of glasses.

 

He folded the newspaper.

When seeking a way out

he would don those glasses.

 

He decided to pause awhile

as the sun had crept from

behind the minaret

 ''Don't you worry 'bout a thing''

came on the cafe's radio,

he smiled.

 

He finished the coffee and

picked up the cigarettes.

Leaving a gratuity in the saucer,

and the news-paper abandoned.

 

As he walked away

Patti Smith's cover 

of 'Young Americans'

came on.

He resisted a smile.

 

Avoiding the many

cyclists and laden carts-

he crossed the street.

 

Another smile would

attract attention.

The smoking was

a disguise.

 

words and foto T Carroll