It seems as if some quaint
European cafe had been dropped
into the middle of a little Hoosier town.
The beige plaster walls,
Checkered table cloth
and green painted siding
invite them into a wondrous
little tea room, in an idyllic village,
or a bistro in rural France.
As I sit and eat my All-American meal
my mind takes flight to another world.
My mind goes off to some foreign land,
a squeeze box playing while young lovers
walk along exchanging dreamy glances.
What was the name
of that little café?