The Artists
by David Allen

A couple in the dead hour
shop up and down the aisles
the supplies of a banquet—
bottled fruit beer
 
and dark chocolate. He's
a painter and she a dancer
and barista. I check them
through the one line.
 
Their time will come
behind a river mouth
of detritus the days
gather and drive
 
to a head, distilled
into the bite of pear,
scent of cocoa
their fingers impress.

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