Sad Giraffe Café by Richard Gwyn

This is a collection of micro stories (I am once again trying to avoid the term “prose poem”...) some of which are completely stand alone while others share themes and characters. There is a surrealism to many – but also a charm and an engaging feel – a level are which they are either nonsense verse or profound satire, maybe they can be both? .

Here is one example...

[I have kept the line breaks is in the book, the text was also justified but I haven't worked out how to do that on here...]

SPY

There was a knock at the door. I got up and an-

swered. A man stood on the porch, wearing a grey

trilby. I asked what he wanted. He said he was a spy

and wanted to monitor my activities. I said if he was

a spy he would not tell me he was a spy. He said such

an attitude was simplistic, that it was a case of calling

my bluff. I conceded that what he said may be so,

but listen, I said, Mister Spy, I have nothing to re-

veal, nothing to conceal, and am of no interest to

The State; I have no politics and no opinions on any-

thing whatever. He said that in itself was of interest,

if true. I said listen, I have things to do, I am a busy

man. What things? He said, you forget, I am a spy, I

need to know. He gestured at the trilby, meaning, I

suppose, that it represented something I would never

grasp or fathom. I have things to write, I said, typing

on an imaginary keyboard, as if he were an imbecile,

then added foolishly volunteering information:

though I have nothing to say. So then, you ad-

mit it, said the spy, with a note of triumph. If it weren't

for me, coming to your house like this, you'd have

nothing to say at all.