She has the voice makes me think she might would rather be drunk
Or maybe is, often...
Loud, nasal, draaaaawn out... clanging and sharp like New Orleans
They talk about parking backward outside the apartment to keep from
banging the driver's side door of the car
on the post
She wants to bring Dante downstairs next weekend
but is afraid he will slip on the floor and get hurt
He is more rational; calm, someone I would rather be around
Patient with her; I guess he is used to her ways
"Let's go. It's too much money oalready," she says, gesturing with her
hands
As I sketch the guy behind them
sitting in the corner
on his cell phone
I'm making him funny colors because he makes me feel funny...
When I first walked in, he
looked at me too long
so I shot him...
a dirty look. heh...
They're gone
I'm almost finished
Yet barely have I begun what I want to get done while I'm here
I had to reboot my computer so I
pulled out my colored pencils
and started creating my own world in the meantime.
The girls at the table behind me are
like
discussing life
and how she did it the long way
and how it sounds good.
College students.
"And I was, like..."
I wonder if I like people much at all sometimes
or if I just need to find something else to do
but they are everywhere
always
and we must co-exist
whether or not they
scrape my nerves
on this nice
Sunday afternoon
as I sit
and listen
and wonder.
