Foggy windows in the soup kitchen

creeping up the edges of the glass

Slick black pavement outside

All the people crowd around the warmth

Indian tastes alert my toungue 

As the warmth flows through me

My headphones rest on the table

I watch silently instead 

Babies have an alliance as do their parents

Talking about growing and personalities

A waiter jumps to wipe down another table

Proud of you, pride of you 

The black outline of redwoods

Under the fog and mist that paints the sky

The warm soup kitchen waits with open arms

Swarming voices 

Add to the fog on the windows

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