Tough Customers

King Sol reigns a port city/it’s caught up in it’s yearning heat;then cool,/on damp then parched boundaries./I wish to batter with my hands /another sun I bristle in an endless wake./I thrive unmolested/on the shores//in storefronts tethered//they conceal wharves/ past daytime neon./Since I’m new here/she warms rose tincture/pours strong coffee./She smiles, “I’m from Greece.”/The awning warms by the sundial/it covers simple warnings.//Then she says suddenly-/Of the customers I so far seen,/some strong men, some stooges;/but you and me/dressed in charcoal/we’re tough customers.

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