had a long glass window
with which
we could peer in and see the noon
lunch crowd
on their swivel
stools
eating the daily specials
of cod
and chowder. or eggs
and bacon.
with their coats still on,
their hats
on the counter, they'd
eat,
steaming up the window.
we were kids
skipping school, wandering
downtown
with a few nickels
to take the D.C. transit home.
our books
stashed behind a tree
somewhere
near ninth street.
we were hungry
for everything.
sometimes we'd go in
and feast,
then run without paying,
down the long
cold streets.
petty thieves who would
not be chased.
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