Soy Flat Yarra.

When I am old I’ll knit,
with imagination’s yarn,
a garment for my grandchildren of
The Tale of the Yarra.

You see kids,
that big murky snake
isn’t really water…
it’s coffee.

And on it goes, so fourth it flows,
through wormlike pipes
to run all that mocha, flat white,
latte, cappuccino, magic,
half-strength, extra-hot, two-sugars,
skinny-milk, “do you have Bonsoy?”
because “I’ll get it to take-away, thanks!”
which people have thought for centuries
was just muddy water,
into all the little coffee shops
in Melbourne.

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