Red Vinyl

Static New York accents float
With abrasive intent throughout the diner –
Burnt smoky bacon thick cut it with a knife smell
Fills the air bouncing off cracked
Half-assed some kind of repair
Duct tapped red vinyl booth seats
Screaming 1950’s decor reminiscent of happier days
Attaching its vibration to anyone that happens to be
An unfortunate victim of being in the wrong place
At the wrong time – syndrome
You slide into position and begin tapping
A methodical rendition of Bo Diddle
On any inanimate object that is slightly stationary
Always reaching its full potential of
…fucking annoying as hell…
And I gaze at your face – I love you babe
While the Juke Box hungers for another quarter
Never noticing the grimace expression
On the waitress’s best ever poker face
Temples pulsating thoughts deliberate
If only we could read her mind
My money’s on…”Come on asshole I don’t have all day”
And you keep trying to make her smile
As if performing a magic trick
Pulling the pencil from behind her left ear
Eyes glazed over lack of luster
“…what’ll ya have mac?”
– the big hand goes around…tick, tick…
Snapping gum between cynical questions
Same old answers day after day
And what do we hear, what do we see?
“One more cup of Joe for the road…”
Just another…dumbassedstupidfucking reply
Overloaded waitress brain freeze –

© 2014 TrilbyYates