It turns out that I had such fun writing the poem about my meal, that immediately after, I tried writing another. When I turned the page of my diary, I found this other not-so-little nonsense poem, based on the Lebanese band who first sat down at the table next to mine, and disturbed me with their coughing and proximity for a while, till they moved away to perform.
The Lebanese Trio's Cigarette Break
I do not understand
a single word they say
But they are whispering, I think,
about something risque.
One has a puff like Elvis,
one's got too much gel.
One has no hair to mess with.
I think that's just as well.
I think I have taken their table.
I think they resent this fact.
They think my smiles as I write this,
suggest my mind has cracked.
And now that they have gone away
you'd think I would feel free
But they drive me suicidal
with their dirge of misery!
Perhaps it is a love song
Or a victory theme, who can say?
For though the words change
the tune remains
the same from day to day.
Could it be that's all they know to play?
Could it be time for me to go away?
The answer to these just wouldn't rhyme
so let me end by saying its not nay.
- also written on 16-8-01