evening blues

Smooth jazz, iced decaf
warm, humid, windless hour before dusk
I am perched beneath a sheltering canopy
and a hundred grey clouds ready to burst
Ash trays on empty tables
vacant chairs for company
A tall girl with an orange barrette
her short, white, cotton dress ruffling out
just above the top of her pale, thin thighs
walks silently through double doors
Nothing else moves but prairie grass
planted for atmosphere
two feet from yellow-covered power lines
and an endless parade of cars, driven by the faceless
For one moment, I don’t care
I am a sullen child craving succor from external saviors
I ache for autumn

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