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
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