We love the café because everyone listens to us.
Only we, we don't listen to each other.
I chatter about the brother
who won't care for the homestead
only so that the middle-aged women at a neaby table who
are not listening to how each other rates the sculptures
in the recnet ICA show can silently sympathize with
my paralysis.
The knee-length dress wearer at the other table with a
turquoise necklace thinks that the large white assemblage
was positioned too centrally, upstaging the more
accomplished bronze abstracts at the sides.
The woman next to her in pants and red blouse believes the artist
went commercial in the 80s and cut corners in her later work.
My friend never met my brother and doesn't understand why I
worry about the homestead.
The waitres has hears us all and hopes someday she can occupy a
café table and judge the world.
Andy Oram
June 10, 2026