The moon was in the street and I couldn’t remember the last time I slept. A thousand pigeons rattled from the rooftops, breaking air as two thousand wings flapped out of time and into the air. I sat back down on the café corner and saw Satan in my coffee and God in the cold white china of the cup. The image said to me, ‘it’s all going to be fine, the king abides man’. If God and Satan could get on alright in a coffee cup, well that gave me a little hope. I balanced a cigarette on the side of the ashtray and watched the street cobbles shake as late night wakers and wanderers made their way up the street.