From around the corner appears a hurried
young couple,
they smile, laugh, hold hands,
then stop in front of the shop window
next door, two meters from me,
to look at the clothes inside, point at something,
exchange a few words, and kiss,
before once again hurrying off
down the street, hand in hand.
My hand holds the waist of
a brown bottle, the cigarette kisses me
with its smoky lipstick,
and the only place I’m rushing to now
is the bottom of this beer, so I can order
another one.