It’s evening
and, finally, I’ve got my market tomatoes and holy basil.

More adults than children crowded the lines, but, in my raincoat,
I’m impervious.
With no rancor, I manage to elbow through the throngs.

I’ve funds enough for what I need
and almost feel I’ve been peculating
when I look inside my bag.

Overhead, the rain of frogs
and lizards begins just as I
catch one of the streetcars,

that are like jars of cool air
from the steam of the sidewalks.
Waiting, still, are more shoppers

for whom the city is a mystery.