Euro 2012 Final. Germany is out. No matter.
They love the game. The summer night is balmy.
Pavement after pavement heaves with diners,
with drinkers, adoringly spectating at the screens
which twinkle out of doors for one night only.
We eschew the rabble as our purpose is much
higher. We are seeking quiet solace where
no corpses bleed, no honey bee molested
will sweeten our confections and no cow will burst
its bladder to assuage our thirst for milk-snot.
We are not virtuous; vegan daughter’s succour
has brought us to the door of Lebensfroh –
The Joy of Living – and to do our penance
for all those gravied victims we have scoffed.
Still, food is food. For us it is no hardship
Except the kitchen closed at eight o’clock
though smoothies or a salad can be brought.
‘This is my kind of place,’ she smiles. ‘A salad
will be fine.’ At least some Pils with alcohol
was found, and raw desserts go down a treat.
The last night of our holiday we come
once more to Lebensfroh. A scribbled note
informs us that the café closed at six.
We settle for a curry two doors down
while disappointed vegan sips her tea.
First published in Reach Poetry