happy hour hive around the bar
rattle tap tap
a flare of burning rosemary
(the aesthetic) leans along the rim
waitress with the web sashed on her back

rain starting; people underneath the window dart across the streets
man abandons his umbrella
I should’ve remembered how loud it was, how young
couples above their own phones, corners aglow in blue light

sleeping to sirens
talking about Schumer’s glasses, arrests at the Kavanaugh protest
catching myself saying “everyone takes an Uber when it rains”
as a woman pushes an empty shopping cart through the crosswalk

flaming tiki bowls and talking about business names ending with “__________& Daughters”
we’re across the street from the Ethiopian place we ate Christmas dinner, years ago now