Saturday, October 24, 2015

ten a.m. eggs

the breakfast order
is wrong in the busy
roadside diner,
a steel shell made
to look like how diners
used look before now.
but it's okay.
you say nothing
to Pam,
your waitress in a yellow
dress.
white apron,
her hair pulled back
by a strand of pink ribbon.
you are in a say nothing mood.
over easy
is now scrambled.
sausage in lieu
of bacon, but
i'll let it pass.
who cares.
tea
instead of coffee,
whole wheat
instead of rye.
no juice.
it's early though.
who doesn't
make a mistake
or two
at this hour of the day.
why it's almost
ten a.m. . i'm as guilty
as she is,
or you.

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