Wrestling with Angels

Corner seats in open air cafes. Bubbling laughter from across the way. Busboys with impressive mustaches. Broken english. Pleasant eyes that go back generations. Old friends in the corner pose for pictures. Then another. Then another. Angle. Sun. Pigeons. And back to their conversations. Clinking wine glasses. Birthday wishes and fish tacos before they break camp and head back to their houses in the ‘burbs. Sometimes it seems as though everyone else lives such tidy lives. Passersby in the background. An assumed beige background with a slight hint of vanilla. Content with the path they’ve chosen. Not looking to run. Would that it were that simple.