The mechanic’s

Where I left my car

Was across from a school

Enclosed by a chain link fence


By drifts of garbage


An old Hispanic lady walked

Hunched with the weight

Of two laden plastic grocery bags

Undaunted by the August heat


A grizzled man at the bus stop

Arranging his plastic bottles

Of clear and amber liquids

Stopped talking to himself

To nod hello


I walked three blocks to

A coffee shop

Where handmade cards

Announced what notes

One should expect

In the daily brew

Butterscotch whiskey apple apricot

An enchanted melody


I tasted bitter

While across the street

A yoga instructor

Yelled commands

At her toned subjects


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