“Hey, Baby, you come here often?” he whispered

in her marble-smooth ear, though he tried

not to stare at her breasts.

She gave him her stoniest stare and silence;

the answer was obvious.

She was admittedly rigid,

trapped in her routine,

her form, her responsibilities;

Empress of the Avenue,

people expected her to be there.

After long years of

impassive watch

over weather and passersby,

a little travel would be nice,

perhaps a visit to cousins in Egypt

or Greece. Something classical.

-DMN

Drinkers

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