The Diner

lined faces animated a room of grey heads
and world war mementos on the walls
drank cascades of hot coffee
chatting about oil fields
and the power plant
and a little girl’s nose

“You only come here on your birthday!”
feigned the skinny blond waitress
broadly smiling
at a burly tattooed customer
whose eyes twinkled back
playful, alive
across a bowl of steaming oatmeal

clanking, clacking dishes
meat, eggs sizzling loudly
pickup bell punctuates
the lively cacophony
of one conversation
with a hundred parts

even the sense of lack
that drives customers ebb and flow
waitresses swirling about
like little crabs in a tidal pool
even that, all of it, complete
brilliant mundane beauty
perfect in itself


Thanks for the photo to this url:

About dominic724

A former seeker starts blogging.
This entry was posted in Poetry & Free Verse and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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