Armadilloes ordered some coffee from the outside cafe,

laughing while adding up with most of their fingers, 

surveying body parts they missed between them–a Baker’s dozen.

The stray cat girl with the wet hair exaggerated her walk

with a sultry, sinuous steps; knowing nevertheless that she had

no hips and what hips she had she hid with a tray of coffee.

 A rat dressed as a fat professor of Imaginary Economics 

nibbled cheese and sipped Pinot Noir. And at first he stroked the table

and then he stroked his knees, squeaking, Yesss.

 And the stray terrorists trying not to look like a cell

and sipping expresso beneath furtive eyes watched tall buildings being tall,

calculating the tip, and double-checking the bill.

by David Wear