nowhere to run

Starbucks.

Right here, Sunday morning. Long chatterings with Gavin walking earlier, big tree wonder, enchanted neighborhood. Outside coffee table, old people one over, golden oldie here. Heat wave coming later, the basement’s cool. Upstairs, downstairs, fetched and fetched. Planning’s so old school. Wildly waiting on another hand-me-down. One of the old guys walks past and I really like his shoes.

Wondering if the thrift shop on MLK’s open. Not a drinking glass in the house.