Lavaca, Congress, 4th and 5th Streets, Sunday morning…
On the other side of Fresh, there’s a new bar with the same old attitude. Fancy doors. Unpronounceable name.
It’s early and already busy in downtown. Is it ever quiet? Maybe at dawn.
It doesn’t take long for it to get hot anymore.
I take a moment of shade.
I share it with a Labrador.
It’s waiting for someone
early morning shopping,
and I’m just waiting to see something interesting.
Like a girl in a leopard shirt writing poetry at the bus stop.
Wait: that’s me.
Smile at the baby.
Smile at a secret.
Y’all are in a hurry:
I’m taking my time.
I’m not traveling:
I’m loitering with intention.
What separates me from the homeless man across the street
doing the same?
A leopard print shirt and
an iced vanilla latte.
He has a paper,
and I have my paper.
So it’s only fashion and circumstance.