The sky was a vomit green
and I felt good
A sickly winter sun
wrestled off its night clothes
to grin a fevered beat
I picked a corner table
at an outside café
a scalding coffee
seething
hostile in an open mug
A feral stranger strode purposefully
came and sat
right by me
looked me in the eye
downed my cup in one
Disdainfully he said,
I have the freedom to do that!
I admit I was impressed
I looked at him, smiling
and I have the freedom to …