The only sound I listen to

Is the clank and the

clatter

of the L as it lumbers

above the gray, steaming

street

There’s nothing to see through

the window that weeps

tears

of condensation as I

drink the hot sludge they call

coffee

and wait for the world to

be worth my while

Nothing

happens so I drop a five on

the table for the faded

Beauty

Hustling tables and I

tell her she should keep the

Change.