It was ninety one degrees this April Third,
Having walked for two hours in the sun,
I was dying of thirst, So
I first went inside a
Green Valley Grocer, the clerk pointed to a sink at the back,
Playing with his bangs
He did not have a cup to offer, “nor do I care”
I shook my head, I stomped away,
Water water
So close yet so far...
I barely could swallow that’s how dry
I was hurrying across the boulevard to 7-11
Surely there my thirst will be quenched,
“Oh thank heavens,” as open door dings a bell.
I struggled to even ask the woman
at the counter.  
I felt my throat closing
May I have a cup, a drink of water??
“Are you gambling? Can’t have a courtesy cup without gambling.”
I says Seriously?
Then I went and there
I knocked upon an old neighbor’s door,
myself parched beyond Death Valley.
She answered, having her phone to her ear, as I politely asked apologetically—for some water, in pantomime.
Without hesitation she returned with a chilled bottle for me.
Ahh, Thank goodness for non strangers,
old neighbors, who see you, not looking through you or past you, unconcerned judgementalists. I have died of thirst
Thank you old Ms. Neighbor for the drank.
You’re the first sign of a good Spring…
(since COVID. Dig?)