Breakfast In a Brooklyn Diner

The TV shows wars and scandal with big faces moving lips running words on every wall while disc jockeys threaten bad traffic and weather through the ceiling. I slurp my omelet’s florescent cheese that strings from mouth to plate, slug my coffee and try to catch the waiter’s fast glance before the street cleaner comes loaded guns spinning down the block. I hear a buzz from my purse. Someone I’ve never met wants to know, “What’s up?” My soul’s reply: “WTF?” April 18, 2017 for Landscape and Towns Poetry Contest