Some just search for a brasserie
Wooden floors and chairs lit up by summer's glee
Plates and mugs and aprons wafting of modern food and coffee
Laughing glasses and pseudo class fitters park bums
Waiters drift past
Norah jones' wet and sneaky humm
Polished cheeks and kitchen trash-talk nasty
The murmur rises and falls like wind taking leaves
People invent heaven
Just so they can leave
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