Is it wasting time to sit there
the posture of a wet coat
nursing a cappuccino
licking my fingers and
pressing them on my crumbs?

Above
There are stray stragglers
and pigeons
and commerçants
leaning on their counters
on a rainy day
in the off-season

Someone descends the stairs
soaked and shivering

Emmy looks out from behind her machine à espresso
Kindly:
“Someone left that”
Pointing with her chin’s cleft

In a mistake of a moment
I’m scooped up and thrown on
and back up the stairs
and onto the street
into the rain
turning to sleet

It could be that my coat is still there
À Boulangerie Caviste
waiting to be swept away