The fee stood That's how they put it—

The fee stood. That's how they put it—

the fee stands—

and I came out with the paperwork

folded into thirds the way they hand it back,

like origami for the end of something.

The flag above the entrance kept cracking.

Not rhythmically. Off-beat, erratic—

chain hitting the pole, then the grommet catching,

then silence, then the whole thing again.

A pigeon was walking slow circles near a drain.

I watched it instead of my phone.

My ride was late. The flag cracked again.

At some point the sound had shifted—

stopped being background,

started being the only sound:

that aluminum ring

swinging into aluminum pole,

metal on metal,

the cloth snapping out and folding back

like it had a point to make

and was going to keep making it.

The pigeon found something by the drain.

My phone buzzed. Not my ride.

The flag cracked again.