Bottle of whiskey

hidden in a dirty, over-sized pack.

I sit at the Butterfly

drinking an Earl Grey,

over-steeped and bitter.

Accompanied with literary discoveries in the French language.

A man in a suit jacket

and jeans

buys his son a small treat.

They have run out of teapots and teacups.

/

An old painter sits down across the table.

“Young man, I am addressing you now.”

He shake-ily writes his name and number

on an unused 3×5

and through closed eyes,

recalls his meeting of Edward Hopper.

Stern like a Prussian officer from World War One

with his helmet off.

Unforgettable.