Smokey Joe's Cafe

My father was a preacher stood for everything good, took my mother’s virginity I was born to the sisterhood. They left me on a stairway a ghostly place to be, down some old back alley near to a South Auckland quay. Found I was in the morning by someone going to work, he decided to keep me this understanding old Turk. Owner of a coffee house down town in Branston square, grew up I guess lucky by someone born to care. He gave to me his name that stands above the door, a photo of me in a frame in a basket full of straw. So here I am heavenly blessed all down to one lucid day, with a name ne’er to rest Smokey Joe’s Cafe! © Harry J Horsman 2012