Summertime Diner

Summertime Diner

 

The youth play cribbage

At a little

Summertime diner.

The yellow sun

Having risen yet again

Fires through

blue velvet lined window.

 

A smile warms

copper coffee cup,

Steam weaves slowly

Into the crevices

Of mousey brown curls.

 

The crippled wooden floor

Creaks to the beat

Of soft guitars and bird songs.

And a lament plays

In the whispered words

Of the waitress

Who, per her contract,

Should not be on the phone.

 

A Schwinn bicycle

Needs no lock

In front of a little

Summertime diner,

Where the youth play cribbage

And fate shows it hand.

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