‘Is it one of them monkeys, what steals people’s wallets?’

The question arrived out of nowhere.
It eerily floated toward us upon a cloud

of Axe Body Spray; it deftly manoeuvred
a minefield of crumpled debit receipts

for our Cool Ranch Doritos; it completely
ignored not only our tattered stack of

Voyages 2 cahiers, but also our coded
discussion of boys. Silence followed the

question, that is, until Laurie counted out
just enough cards to begin a fresh game

of Asshole. We did not know who that
guy was, how he came to be at our table,

or what made him ask about thieving
primates; all we knew for certain was that

he wasn’t the kind of guy who would ever
drive a Honda Civic full of lawn chairs

to a Tim Horton’s parking lot, & ask his
naked-chick keychain if it could go bum

him a smoke from the cool kids making
out like bandits in the dark, over there.