Monday, April 18, 2011

do si do

late and wishful he waits alone
the truckstop is on I90
chrome diner, lonely as a weed in asphalt
it has its own cherry tree
and grown from seed an apple tree that blossoms
it never fruits
waystation for drivers through the night
loaded with tomatoes and sometimes peaches
wandering in at an hour for crows in heat
she carries a paper bag of hope
denial was never her strength
bitterness was never her weakness
she is a hard kneed woman
all two yards of her
towards sunrise the entire place will
smell of torn open coffee bags
slightly burned toast and eggs crisp on the edges
Paradise Diner
you wander in the air tastes of something
you may have felt once waiting
for someone to call from the hospital
sometimes the news is all cupcakes and cider
to go

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