when the bicyclists
take over Starbucks
they're all thigh muscles
and calf muscles
and leotards
and loud conversations
about breathing control
and nobody has the heart
to tell them they're inside now
and they don't have to yell anymore
they scrape tables together
because they come in the dozens
I'm telling you
with their "Are you using this chair?"
all butt sweat
and sunglasses on their foreheads
everywhere the baristas look
another grabby peddler
and maybe now they understand
how Ma and Pa Coffeeshop feel
when they look at Starbucks
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