Scanning the shop for a face beyond sub-par
I find little to nothing. So I just sip coffee for
A second. & then it hits me:
We are in Saturday morning mode, & the pretty people
Are still asleep, or in post-drunken-revelry coitus,
Enjoying a rainy early-day, under the sheets & warm winter quilts
That have yet to be stored away.
After all, it is only spring’s second day.
Another thought dawns on me.
If this rule for the day does hold true, if it is truth,
What can be said about me?