An impression

The odor of the wet street mixes with the booze from the bar.
The propiertor shakes out a purple striped dishtowel.
It is early morning, the sun is still not up,
But the air is hot, sticky and sex.

The sidewalks are hosed down,
The street lights sparkle against the puddles.
I don’t know where I’m walking,
But I know I am home.