Saturday

"We're leaving,"
I'd say to strangers--
Then saunter out doors.

So sick of cold and biting my tongue,
Managed to be
Smiling and laughing
To the next open door.

Meeting few strangers and
Trying to speak,
Politely shouting into ears.

Then elbows made wet
While I bartered for beer,
And the rally went up:

"We're leaving,"
I'd said to strangers,
And hustled out doors,
Still sick of the cold.