Shy Just

One woman with a bottle of Chardonnay.
Another, walking out, with some sixpack
Of whites.
And another woman, with her
Jumpy son,
Debating with him over cereal selection.
And I can’t wait to leave, drive
Up the block, and be so safely sequestered.
Admiring a nonbeat, the best tempo for
Confessional in clouds, to a bottle of
Red. What do I have.. Wishing for a
Fault jolt, some movement, anything
To cause reshape, a free state.