THURSDAY WITH THE WINDOWS BOARDED

by Joseph Goosey

Four blonds enter the cafe.
Their intrusive tits seem to be screaming.
They sport pink shirts
that are all too small and read
ASK ME
in pink, stunted letters.
The barista with the fake prescription
who poured my Venti
shouts in their direction
ASK YOU ABOUT WHAT?
None of the four blonds answer.
They walk out the same door
they came in.
The barista was deemed
inappropriate.
She doesn't look at me.
I don't look at her.
I look at my coffee,
spill it.
There exist no funds
for a replacement.