munch

no no no no

in the blackness, i walked past the neon green sign.
it tells me about the steeple and the minaret
and how they stand and stood.
the lady with the black hair and the grease-smeared smock
asks me what it'll be
and i look up at the sky and
decide.

i push the things to one side,
clutter and muck left behind in the rush.
the counter lasts all of two minutes
and i try not to lean on my elbows.

cannot help but peer around,
craving the fire that would put out all the rain pattering down.
the girls beside me have a wet umbrella
which matches the sheen on their used plastic jackets.
i smile at the old man as he pulls up across
and try not to stare at the unshaven boys
in their boisterousness.

could i sit here for hours
imagining - extrapolating - the stories in the hubbub around me
the whispers and tales of woe
the giggles and covert glances
and all the moments lost to a strawberry milkshake
or a banana split
with extra chocolate sauce and no walnuts.

get a little closer and meet her eyes as she pushes at me.
they'll never get me.
an island in a sea.
the stream of soda swishing
around
and sandwiching
the sounds.

for the trek out side is for later
and the music will hit my face
but until then,
munch.