Off balanced laboring fans push

diner air onto walls

stained yellow.


Customers lean over tables, whispering,

pointing fingers and then laughing,

breaking into the clatter of plates and silverware.


Waitress’ weave around tables

delivering the beginning of meals.


Counter people nod to the cook

who prepares their regular.


The door opens. Cold air rushes in lifting

napkins and checkered tablecloth corners.


Tables empty and then quickly refill with

tides of faces and hands.


The corner booth is the best.




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