Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Diner Song

Sometimes I wake up,
in love with the world,
every last scrap of humanity.
I want to kiss the
fry cook with the neck tattoo
and hug the waitress
with her shy second language smile
as she pours my coffee.
Dance with the ball-capped truckers
and red-necked farmers,
the widows with their paper-backed romances for company.
I want to take them home
to my kitchen and
smother them with love and gravy
so thick they'd never want to leave.
But here we all sit
together and alone
having breakfast in America.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I love this one and can relate a thousand times over. I too have lived that very senario and at a coffee shop or a museum. A happy, busy place where individuals are sharing something a meal...a view. Yet, all we actually share with each other is our crowded loneliness.--Tish