a crane fly folds into itself, unmoving in the corner
regulars at the coffee shop, coming in for last-minute orders
rounding shelves stacked with glass noodles, two white boys
check out the Asian candy
we lift grocery bags into the trunk: chicken thighs, eggplant,
okra, onions, potatoes
a woman approaches, points out scratches on the bumper
who even put them there
she asks if we know who did that
she keeps saying she has a camera on her truck
we don't respond
what is that even supposed to mean
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.
