Downtown

Grass growing tall as summer rolls out of bed. The game of 'will they mow it soon?' I always hope they don't and on my way to work in some months a snake and I will meet and we can call a truce and I will be on my way. I don't eat seafood anymore because a small fish and I called a truce some years ago.

Is the sky blue or smog? The humid haze and a breeze that stops and starts and the smell of the mill lilts through the town.

A bench. The canyon of downtown. Buildings reaching a few stories and the sunlight breaks direct for the mid afternoon and then shade again slips and I'm watching the people and occasionally writing in my notebook and wishing, but wishes are not worth writing about.

Outside. Sidewalk seating. A coffee, black, on the table in front of me and a man with a dog sits near me. I see him from time to time and always with the dog. White. The dog, but also the man. He sips and people know him. They stop, talk, and move along and he always stares out at the street as if waiting to begin, and I assume he has already ended. I assume he is fascinating to know, but I know it is fascinating to assume.

I borrowed a collection of Bukowski poems from the library but, as happens, I am bored of Bukowski and I also borrowed Hemingway's unfinished novel. I have read it three times and the first time I read it I went through a long period of creativity and the second time I read it I didn't, but now... well, also not much. I've been considering more Faulkner, but I'm always unsure about syllabus writers and so I find myself perusing the autobiographical graphic novels in the library. All of their trains were late and all of their coffees were lukewarm and all of their gardens wilted and I'm reading my seventh. I'd like to write one and I consider a number of talented artist friends who may want to collaborate with me. I swipe my hair across my forehead and sip my coffee and wish I had the courage to stand and pet the dog (white) and talk to the man (also white) and enjoy my coffee (black) in good company.

I don't.