NPM 15/30: Things that happen
Things that happen
Yesterday at the cafe
while I tapped on my laptop
a coffee spoon disfigured
in my palm. Just like that,
a goose whose neck broke in the wind.
And then a crowd congealed outside,
and sirens. Somebody’s flat
up high across the narrow street,
just a room really, up in flames.
Bystanders swelled and blocked the firemen
who were too busy shouting into radios
to shout at us
and I thought
in there is all of someone’s stuff
(it was a really tiny room)
and the waitress said
I know him, he comes here all the time
with that black dog
and from the back,
someone was screaming
for his bill, his fucking bill.
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