On a quiet Sunday
when the sun is out
you can drive to
a village in Kent
which boasts a
coffee bar with plastic
tables. Among the
paraphernalia on the
walls a bird in a
painted cage says
Ban the bomb ban
the bomb ban the
bomb ban the bomb
Boys in plastic jackets
fidget there with
beehive girls. The chickens
look brittle and taste
as though they were made
in the same factory
as the tabletops.