monday

the breeze greeted me with a smile, the sun with teeth

austin is the city tourists think it is in november

i catch my reflection in a puddle

should’ve shaved this morning

my pillow made a stronger argument

daniel is pushing his tool cart around the corner

his knuckles tap mine

asks in spanish about how the dishwasher is working

the tongue i inherited from grandma is out of practice

but we manage

the girl who lives down the hallway is a few steps ahead of me

we wait together at the crosswalk in silence

she looks like she’s been crying

my lips part to speak just as the light changes

she gives a familiar wave, but averts her gaze

two salvadoran guys are gossiping on the roof of the bar

while stripping the gaudy halloween decorations

their flatbed trailer is parked against the curb

filled to the brim with christmas tree ornaments

apparently one of their sisters is getting divorced

the coffee shop is a can of sardines

it’s 10am on a monday

one wouldn’t be blamed for wondering if anyone in this town works

i open up slack on my phone, leave it on the table, and open my book

there’s an apron-clad barista sweeping leaves off of the patio

i meet her eyes through the window