Any working-class schmuck can be sitting there, in that no-named tin can diner.
They can be sitting there, haggard, wind-chapped faces half buried in an endless cracked mug of muddy coffee
Maybe they're mentally reviewing that nagging list of to-do's or recalling the final score of the game they missed last night.
& while they're exploring the doldrums of their everyday life
it catches their eye.
that beautiful glistening view.
The shining, copper view will reflect in the glint of their tired, weary eyes, and
they'll stop.
Put the crack mug down,
wiping the coffee sludge off their lip.
They'll continue to bask in the glow of the architectural wonder-
head in hands
chin resting on fists.
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