Pure Products

by Paul Marion

I have escaped from crazy America,
Sitting in a café near City Hall eating quiche
And drinking Swiss beer with Rosemary
On a Sunday morning in the August heat.
Green light–rail cars, washed for the new day,
Stop and go a few yards from our table.
The server, like others from Amsterdam
To Heidelberg, speaks English to us.

William Carlos Williams wrote: “The pure products
Of America go crazy.” We’re not the only ones.
It’s often true, not always, but often enough
To slow us down when we cross the street
Or head for the next bend in the river.
I just want to sit for a while at a distance.