Under the hillside awnings, round the tables where cool air contends with sunlight
Every day of every week

Saint John the Evangelist hands out Good News advisories of real estate
Inherited by the meek

Nazir the Syrian Engineer studies by night and keeps the cappucino
Flowing constantly by day

While Moshe the Conscientious, sprung from custody, holds Peace Talks with the customers
Here at Safat Cafe.


King David in the corner with his 12-string plays clawhammer style
While humming in a tuneless monotone

And Devorah stirs his coffee, pours brown sugar while demanding Judy Collins songs
He sang for her by phone

Amoz Oz and David Grossman sit together, write their autographs on walls and business cards
Then leave for home

And Solomon the Colonel issues orders to the Management to play again
The Songs of Leonard Cohen.


The Authorities try to close us down for working on the Sabbath, built on
Sacred Ground without planning permission

Angel in flight from Hamas and Mossad still comes by to debate the benefits
Of male circumcision

The Samaritan on the terrace, cloaked in pages of Ha'aretz, keeps his good eye on Messiahs
Up from town

And Jenny the kibbutz volunteer from Macclesfield in England asks me, Baby,
When's your day off, let's go down


To the cotton fields in bloom, I will hold you there so sweetly, you can sing your Song of Songs
For me all day

But I smile and say, not yet, I'll be staying with my friends, waiting for Revelation
At Safat Cafe.