Delicatessen

Here were are at 12 O Clock

Within the Delicatessen

serving bread and cheese and wine and meat

of all kinds

Here in the stony town, always grey. Bleak. Hidden in a scene

I guess.

I am one of the workers, I serve the cheese

Brie

Wensleydale

Cheddar

Emmental

Lester

Keltic Gold

I know my platter

By my left is Jennifer, straight hazel hair and black eyes

she tends the meat. But she is a vegetarian she laughs but I know how she dislikes her job. I would offer her mine but I've grown too fond of my specific selection

Brighton Blue

Stilton

Ashdown Foresters

Applewood

Red Windsor

My Right Yanos, tall, very tall. Markets bread. Long brown hair falls over most of his face but I can see his eyes. Blue, like sky. Something about him is harrowing and yet beautiful

I'm rather fond of Rothbery red

Swaledale

Red Dragon

Dunlope

Cornish Yarg

I never met the wine worker

I do not know why, I just have not.

He/She's an enigma

I wonder what He/She's like?

Whether He/She likes the colour magenta?

Or if He/She has ever read Goodbye To Berlin

Or even if He/She is scared that one day we will all die. Including Him/Her.

We also serve Waterloo

Whitehaven

Geverik

Parlick Fell

Lymerswold

The Delicatessen is wrapped in white tiles

with two horizontal strips of green lines

and a blue neon sign Delicatessen

then a red one Opened/Closed.

It's the only source of livelihood here

We keep people social as well as alive

Lanark Blue

Radden Blue

Blissful Blue Buffalow

Duddleswell

Hereford Hop

There's this one costumer

He only wears black trousers, a red shirt, a denim jacket and white snazzy shoes

He makes up for it with his hair

one day it's blue

next red

green

purple

yellow

orange

white

pink.

He also has large turquoise headphones and listens to obscure abstract music.

I think he likes me.

Sometimes I think I like him too.

Theres Little Derby

Single Gloustshire

Double Glostshire

Caboc

Berkswell

Three other costumers

Women in their mid twenties, women's activists.

Who after they march, marching for their cause

come to buy various food

Lady's in distress

wearing marching black boots

leave with wine

bread and ham

I never see their eyes for they are protected by sunglasses

Exmoor Blue

Bath Soft

Crowdie

Stinking Bishop

Inkeepers Choice

When the day is done at 6 O Clock and I walk to my flat, where the walls are a pale cream covered in posters of art I usually sit on my burgundy sofa

and watch television

until about 7:30pm when I start to cook, and when my flatmate comes in from his work, his work in the city. My flatmate Neil., Broad, light hair, almost the perfect embodiment of the male. He worked at a law firm within the city. I was jealous of his work and his successful wage but his kind compassion would overcome this, such as the stony wall that broke the stormy sea

“Hello how are you?

Good good what happened at work

he said

she said

wow what a day”

I cook and so does he, then we eat. Talk some more

“so how the girl you've been seeing

what about you I've never seen you with anyone

bah

bah?

Not important to me

How are your parents?

They seem fine

yours?

Yeah they're ok”

there’s no point telling him my thoughts, he never understands them when I tried in the past, he'll never criticized me though. He never has, it's almost as if he is a golem from clay made to make me feel warm. Yet there are still signs that he is sentient, when the phone rings

and it his other life

his other friends

his other work

and I’m left again alone

and I think

think back to my Delicatessen

how I am a ghost with the Delicatessen

my Delicatessen

serving cheese

going home

sleep

serving cheese

going home

sleep.

I hate it in one way

but in another I don't think I could function without the Delicatessen

in one way I want to get away

but in another I love the Delicatessen.