Dog-Leggin’ Downtown

Early downtown,

people looked like they

were hugging the warmth of

their waking hours against them.

The sidewalks held damp and

chill

from overnight rain.

The sun can’t quite

make it out.

People are all over spitting,

the latest craze since

bums spit over our clean streets

in the fifties.

It’s all ages and genders now.

I duck into a warm booth at the back of

New Town Bakery.

Orange plastic upholstery

and

a wood-alike arborite tabletop.

The plastic glass containing amber tea

is room temperature.

I have it replaced with

a hot one

to warm my hards

from the cold gloves

I’ve worn.

I play with the dome

of steamed white dough

secreting black bean paste inside.

The bill is a dollar, fifty-eight.

How is this possible.

I leave three dollars and half the

hot refill of tea.

I will not have people working

for nothing.

"Claiming Unopened Packages of Junk Food Left on Shelf in Phone Booth"

Copyright © 2010 Nicole Rigets