Homeless

My poetry group may have lost its home. The cafe where we were meeting wants a minimum $6 charge for each poet each week. It has come to their attention that some of us aren't ordering enough food and drink.
I'm not denying I have been recalcitrant in my ordering history. I have bought one cookie and a few ice teas, but have yet to sample the food. I am diabetic and can only eat at certain times. I could put off my dinner until seven once a week. It wouldn't be that much of a sacrifice.
But more disturbing is our failure so far to find another place for our meetings. We have tried surrounding libraries, only to be informed their space is all booked up. Plan B was rec or senior centers, but that also was a dead end. You can't focus on poetry critique when elders are playing ping pong behind you. Other eating establishments would want us to buy food too. Damn capitalists. My thought is to advertise for a lonely person with extra space and promise company two hours a week. We'd bring our own coffee, let him listen to our writing, even contribute a comment or two. We'd also promise not to use the bathroom.
Rutherford is associated with William Carlos Williams, and here we are in 2012, wandering poets looking for a home. It's been proven that having poets around the premises raises property values. If worse comes to worse, I'm voting for Hooters. Sensuality is such a part of great verse and Hooters oozes inspiration.