THE GATHERING

A jukebox holds

the room hostage

neon’s struggle

scratchy songs

labor in love

patrons huddle

in whispers

 

a black

checkered floor

receives night traffic

crumpled napkins

a phone

number written in red.

 

cracked seat cushions

welcome the

tired and depressed

 

a lone waitress

slow motion

hats tipped, heavy mascara

leather jackets

tattoos and toothpicks

the song skips

holding one word

no one notices

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