◉ 040 | The Wall

Midday heat.

A tourist drove

into the supermarket

parking lot.

Czech plates.

A group of locals

sit on a low wall

by the entrance,

drinking beer

in the shade.

Žuja.

Eighty cents.

Dark brown bottle.

The kind of beer

you ask the cashier

to open,

promising to bring

the empty bottle back.

—

The tourist reverses,

aiming for a tight space

near the wall.

A local figure

stands up.

The others stay seated.

Beer in his left hand.

Waving with the right.

“More.”

“More.”

“More.”

The car keeps moving.

Boom.

He lifts his palm.

“Enough.”