09 November 2010

diner poem

“A clean, well-lighted place”
A place to hang my face for a while
To hang my fake smile with my coat and hat
Keep the coffee coming and
Running to my shattered nerve
Scrambled mind with toast
Battered with home fries and missed connections
At this counter's confessional
Say two sausage links and more coffee and some
Sour orange liquid stinging the scars
Acerbic and ascorbic in discourse
Until the conversation is over
The plate empty with crumpled napkins and bits of truth
Time to leave this place
To take back up my coat with my up-turned pretense and
Leave some tip

[march-april-may 2010]

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