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Tuesday, April 15, 2014

Another Day At The Diner

We both reached for the sugar at the same moment
Tangling our fingers atop the white grainy cubes
In a mingled morass of splayed digits
Our eyes locked
She went for my throat
I peed my pants
Blood was spilled
Mistakes were made
It was another day at the diner

At three in the am
Jorace scrubbed at the blood on the asbestos tile floor
Being the son of Joanne and Horace
And the end product of a bitter name battle
His only option was to become the night cleaner at the diner
Tanned calloused hands gripping the old red plastic scrub brush
Back and forth
Back and forth
Jorace grimaced as the blood stain slowly faded from site
Buried under a soapy pink froth
The table above him still decorated with stray sugar cubes
It was another night at the diner

With the sunrise through the plate glass pressed between frames of polished metal
Came the daily delivery of eggs
Of all different sizes for all different patrons
Colored eggs and white
Speckled and plain
A sepia one for Oklahoma Dorothy
Robin's egg blue delicacy for the more technicolor Gale
All kinds started trickling in for their morning dose of coffee with beans
A little gossip and frolic greens
Just the right way to start the day
At the diner at the end of the yellow brick road
In the merry old land of Oz