A Coffee Bean on Ventura

Thrum of a freeway, but no one within these walls hears it. They are concentrating on their ice blendeds, their paper cups. Across the street is something called Slaw Dogs, Doner King, Carnation Nails. I'm hearing a lot of a-words: acknowledge, appreciate. Another one: apologize. What's with all these supplications? For once I'm writing without thought, without editing. I'd like to think I do this on a regular basis, but really I'm always tweaking. Twinkling? Whatever. I sound like I'm high. I'm not.