Truth Café

I was strolling up from
Truth Café at Buitenkaant street

Still somewhat thirsty I ran in to
a Cape Town Hair Cut Saloon

A sweeteyed shy girl from Zimbabwe
smoothly served me a facial
You need it, it’s humid they said

Well done she handed over my caucasian skull
to a feisty oneeyed man
from Zanzibar

Summerly short I said
will do he rejoiced, it’s hot

Contemplating images of sea adventures I strayed
A little boy stood beside and told me,
you look nice

Getting to my senses in the lure of the heat
and my own inner thoughts
I settled for the outcome

I am now, at last, a vision
of the balkan brute

The image path
my father and ‘is brother paved

That’s ethno chic for you

/ Boris Zetterlund

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