Tough Customers

King Sol reigns a port, in a city,/caught between the  yearning,/for heat and cool,/earth parched, earth damp./You  rise with battered hands, bristling/to the  power of the sky,/the sea’s endless wake./Though you say you thrive,/on the shore unmolested,/you’re tethered to wharves/ by the same neon sign./When I was new here,/ she warmed rose tincture,/poured coffee ,smiled, told me: “I’m from Greece.”/ The awning by the sundial warming,/ she drags out  words past missing teeth./She says: “The customers so far, they’re strongmen or stooges.” /But she and I, dressed for the kill/one of a kind:tough customers.

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