It’s a train car without wheels.
A gathering for
the subculture. An information
center of new and yet to happen.
It’s a stopover between this
and that. Art deco, vinyl and
stainless steel. Formica countertops
and a bathroom without a lock.
A jukebox with failed neon’s struggles
in the corner. Eggs and coffee all day.
Smudged doors and stained windows.
Unwashed faces. Newspapers stacked
by the door. Table whispers, tired
eyes, advice without guilt. Alone finds
a stool or booth. No reservations
Required.
Roger Singer 