The sting of hot grease, sweat and onions hits as you enter
Various characters scattered about, eyeballing, “Who came in?”
Every other fluorescent light overhead is burned-out or flickering
Stale donuts piled on a plate under a smeared glass cake cover
Coffee so thick it won’t spill, served in a chipped coffee cup,
The cup’s finger loop too small for any adult’s finger to fit
Past-cute waitress in a faded blue uniform with a stained apron,
Her hairspray defenses strong against the cook’s steamy assaults
Her too-thick blue eye shadow somehow clashes with everything
Shiny yellow egg-eyes with brown-specked edges stare up from pale plates,
Sharing space with rubbery bacon and a mound of charred potato shards
Tums and Rolaids wait in a cracked-glass counter by the cash register
ha. sounds like a great breakfast to me...when you want to go.
ReplyDeleteYep, I have been there before.
ReplyDeleteExtraordinary from the every day, Bubba. This is magic. This is art. This is life.
ReplyDeleteWow! lovely description,i could really see the scene..
ReplyDeleteNice morning ~
ReplyDeleteLove the words and images ~