The Cafe (Part V)

Checkerboard floors

Frame the photo from 1878

All the intersecting streets

Meet at a table

In the center of the city

Where its history is kept on walls

In black and white

Places I’ve stepped

But only remember in color

Broadway

And the river

The boathouse on its banks

And Douglas Ave

The history of these places

Not kept in hallowed halls

But on the griddle

And the waffle iron

Which presses Bill’s breakfast

The conversations of his friends

Accompany it

They are the regulars

Not far from the photographs

Of this hall of humility

The roads that run here

No Roman roads

Never trying to be

Making them better

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