grey hair steps out of the car, struggling
with the wind, pot belly on two
spidery legs in slim black jeans
(to match the car), moves the chair
on its side, blocking the car’s path
and (parked illegally), sticks his cig
ash-out into his rearview mirror
where the wind enthusiastically
smokes it.

(for sake of completion
only, I’ll mention that, returning
to his car, he attempts a few drags
before getting back inside, but
finds the cigarette shortened, and
the wind in a playful mood,
spraying foam from his latte
into his face and onto
the street.

casting the cig to the
ground, grey hair gets back

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