Waiting for the Department of Motor Vehicles To Open

i slide down the bricks to the
cemented cobblestones letting the morning sun under my skin
an overgrown man grows towards me
and grinds his cigarette into the ashtray
besides me, two inches from my face
the hot and sour weedy smell so real compared to
its wispy smoke

i open the california driver's manual for the first time:

note where you are.
do not be in someone's blind spot, especially that of a large truck or
a streetcar

and yet the kid next to me
is drifting
is spitting on the ground, small explosive bouts of drooling.

he watches it pool in the pavement and
the bubbles form and rise and pop.