The waitress dropped her pencil
onto the floor where it comfortably
saddled up next to an abandoned French
fry at the base of a full counter where men
of labor ate like starving horses and
business men sipped hot tea and ladies
used their napkins, all under foggy stained
lights as the crowd spoke loud
words competing to be heard against the
stories rising and falling like a herd of
out of tune pianos spreading anger and
guilt, laughter and tears on the stage of
life at your neighborhood diner.
Roger Singer 