Sunday January city center we drink coffee and eat i wander through the paths lined with counters and men with steam tables full of tacos and paper hats from another puritanical time when under your floors we got away with naughty things and Tommy gun rounds i smell the 40s in the maize pastrami sushi air while twinkling organic trinkets catch their shines in the corner of my eyes as they move to the ceiling fans keeping my ghosts a few inches above the ground old and new we merge in agreement and dissolve in short spurts of peace