Just a-pourin’ on down the sink.

Cold drinks, hot bodies. Another place to come and sit, and take off as much as you dare. Show off some skin, take it all in. Feel the sun on your face and your hair.

That tall drink of water’ll quench your thirst, better than anything wet ever could. In a city where parks are made of concrete, and if you’re lucky the benches are wood.

But the thing about thirst is that it never stays quenched. And your mouth’s always working toward dry. And tomorrow, the next day, or the day after that, you’ll be back here without knowing why.

Back in this square, with its concrete and traffic. Back in this “park” with no softness or green.

Looking for another tall one. Glistening in the afternoon sun.

Oh, there’s plenty to drink.

And you’re thirstier than you think.