The Lazy Java Cafe

To your left you spot a hip-looking cafe. In front a small group of men and women sit, on tiny cafe stools around a tiny cafe table and sip modern cafe drinks.

As you cross the street, a few of them look at you, noses poking over the tips of poetry books and cups of hot java.

You push open the doors and the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans overtakes you. The spotlight shines on a poet on stage as he utters a dramatic last line. As small silence ensues, and then clapping. This is my kind of place, you think, sitting down in the back.