old couples on yellowing plastic chairs
the heat of the griddle dull on my face
a quiet meeting of bottles, drinks cans
restocking the freezers in a stained apron
a glass causeway above the market stalls
peppered with garish advertisements
homeless men with accordions
play the notes of the winds that swept them here
blue ink on paper receipts, smudged in purses
the nauseous smell of beef slowly cooking
thick and bulbous in the broth
I lose the time and smile across the counter
