There are red geraniums on the counter at which I sit drinking coffee with the peculiar scent of canine musk in my nostrils. Tomorrow maybe. The taxis are orange and turquoise here and some heartfelt melody plays on a piano over a loudspeaker making me feel exploited. A puppy crosses the street followed by its owner. I am so tired. When I reopen my eyes everything looks blue. It is so bright. My breathing slows and my blinks stretch and recline.
Isn’t his jacket going to fall out onto the newsstand the colour of lettuce next to the passing lady that squints through the glass in the bright neon light?
This music is driving me crazy. Why won’t the coffee go down and I’m leaving. Yellow and grey band carry a bunch of yellow flowers crossing in front of a yellow school bus. Mohican old woman smiles at my gaping yawn, weeping slightly eyes. Dogs yawn. The planes yawn across the sky and cars & buses yawn loudly and rudely at each other. I am yawning up air that is old and will not leave my lungs. Fat cigars and roll the window up. “It’s good luck. I guess it’s colourful – I don’t think about it at all!”