They laugh and they clap and they gossip and they talk
about lust, frustration, men, children, jobs and about anyone
who strolls along the road in front of the cafe
The whole neighbourhood will be expertly analysed
Sweetner in a decaffeinated macchiato
in between laughter in razor sharp vibrato
then only a whisper in conspiratorial tones
Marlboro lights,
So they sit and chatter and
and they differ little from the roosting chickens
You've definately seen them, you already know them
They are the girls from the
Every saturday they sit together
Women beside each other, everytime the same
They praise and curse many a long dead flames (??)