I ask the barista engineering the production of my chai
whether rain increases or decreases the flow of customers.
It alternates, she says. When it’s cold, rain amps things up.
When it’s warm, it’s already slow; with rain it fizzles out.
The coffee shop is crackling today—energy contained
within the walls, unwilling to leave the insulated space,
afraid of the potential shock. Will that be cash or charge?
Yesterday’s prompt from Poetic Asides was to write a weather poem.