America's Diner

image borrowed from bing

America’s Diner

“I die a little inside every time I see an old

person alone in a restaurant.”--Anonymous.

I took my wife to the airport today;

kissed her, missed her, drove on stressed out--so sad.

Since yesterday was April’s last, it’s now May.

I decided to stop at Denny’s--had to piss bad.

While there I thought I might as well have food;

had coffee, soft bacon, hard eggs, cinnamon French Toast.

It sounded so fine, I knew it would be good--

but after it came, my face paled like a ghost.

Bacon was thin & greasy & tasted like cardboard;

the French Toast was nearly raw, the eggs were burned,

the coffee was bitter, the milk was sour--oh Lord.

I forced myself to consume the crap--undefined

rage was rising in my neck; paying the bill, but

stiffing the waitress her tip, holding back my vomit. 

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over on dVerse Poets MTB

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