car'd bored.
strangers talk
lakes float past
doors clink
legs shuffle
packs chink
and cars rustle by.
we are waiting for you, for our saint of the road.
silly though, in the café.
I could stay here all day with the chairs
the walls
the coffee.
Ah, back to the road.
soft legs. red face.
red eyes, slow pace.
-aug 15th, Wawa Ontario. 6:30 am.