A woman in a poncho is tugged home by her Doberman.
Its Friday evening and I sit at the coffeehouse and watch
the liberals, progressives and leftists stroll down the street,
full of themselves. Count the corporate logos if you can.
They have just eaten at the vegetarian restaurant,
given money to the man downwind selling Streetwise,
and shook their heads at teenagers smoking on the corner.
At the table to my left, a blonde boy rubs the thigh
of an Asian girl-chairs cough their way across the floor
as another couple rearranges the room. Slowly, ever so
slowly, the flower box bluebells bend into boredom.