Café Civilisation

Rob, he has large skim café latte. He wife works in lingerie. 

Jason, he's a bookie at Flemington Racecourse. He never comes in wearing the same pair of sunglasses. He has a long macchiato, sometimes a short macchiato, depending on how much time he has to spare.

Sharon, She's a teachers aid. Small and weathered, with a perpetual tan, she has a large cappuccino with takeaway, because she is always going somewhere or doing something. If you ask her how she is, she will always answer with "busy", before elaborating. 

Trent, he has a green tea because it's more healthy. Sometimes he has a espresso, usually when he's with other men.

Barry, he meets with his daughter and granddaughter, Chelsea. Both he and his daughter have a skim café latte. He discribes himself as a refugee from Cafe Lomar, which closed down recently.

Alistair

Alistair, I don't know how to spell your name, Alisdair.
Alistair, you're lying shirtless on a fold-out couch and I only just meet you a moment ago -
Sitting in the kitchen, drinking tea. It had cinnamon and peppermint as its flavours.
And I reckon, it was your talk of taking down the wall,
between the kitchen, and the living room, that got me really thinking.
I kept smiling in your direction, because that's the way I tread ground with new persons -
Softly-softly, with men particularly.
You're my friends new house-mate. Sydney once knew your name, but now Melbourne - 
A year since moving. Construction the object of your study.
I try to approach new ways of asking of you, trying to avoid the same old questions.
You're tired, you're hungover, we talk about cities and solar power.