“People Watching” Rozell, 2021.

She wears a pink shirt the color of frosting  
and leans her elbows against the hot black table 
her ankles the texture of proofing sourdough 
on an afternoon countertop. He holds her hand. 
“Have a good one,” they squeak 
to the grubby man, his 
stuff in a shopping cart. 
Alas, a false alarm. 
The cab had turned the corner to pick 
someone else up to take to the beach. 
In this hand-knitted shoreline city 
some are tourists and others are homeless; 

and I wear dark glasses and write from 
the corner, hoping no one will notice me. 

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