BACK IN PORT CITY

BACK IN PORT CITY
they came into the coffee shop
all huffing and puffing
the fatter one unwrapped her scarf,
“I’m thinking about something warm to drink,
maybe a hot chocolate?”
“yes,” nodded her friend. “yeah, maybe
some hot chocolate or coffee maybe,
because it is a bit nippy out.”
“oh, yes. It is nippy out, that’s for sure.”
I looked out the foggy windows
outside there lay two feet of crusted dirty snow
I could actually see the wind
tearing through the night
ripping at the barren trees
and punching at the awning above the door
a weather forecaster earlier that morning
had said that if the temperature reached zero
we would be lucky
“nippy?” I snorted, frowning
pulling my knit hat further down my forehead
“fucking nippy?”
it was then I wondered yet again
whether I shouldn’t have stayed in Las Vegas
unemployed and broke and sleeping in flood washes
or in San Diego
leaning against the walls of the public library
with all the other bums
or maybe in southeast Asia
eating rice and swatting at flies
it was then I wondered yet again
what the hell am I doing back here in this place?