one cup filled only with ice
and feet
covered with snow
boots on a
sunny day in may—
and one cup
of coffee
the other
with melting ice
and a
maroon vest
buttoned to
the top
right
beneath the chin
in the
smoking section
of this
dirty restaurant—
two
wrinkled faces
talking of
onion soup
over long
skinny brown cigarettes
and plenty
of coughing
deep voiced
waitress spilling coffee
smiles from
here to there
and back
again
with more
ice for the boot man—
and the sun
is finally shining
after
hiding for almost ten days
no moon at
night
or stars to
wish upon
but what
would one wish for
that we
don’t all ready have
can we
start again going back
from ten
and then
the brown
cigarette
wrinkle
faces smile
thinking
the leather may tear
I turn away
and I must
move from
this spot as
another
afternoon ends…
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