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Dark Side
At a truck stop diner outside Atlanta:
His face expressionless
His mouth mutely slack
He sat at his small table watching her
as she methodically absent-mindedly
splashed dinner plates
into dull sudless brown water
quick-rinsed, and
set on a rack to dry
ready for the next diner dinner.
Her body remote,
as though she’d done this dance
hundredsandhundredsandhundreds
of times before,
Which she had.
Harshly scrawled dark red lips
stretched taunt across an empty face,
Wearily worn black mascaraed eyes
watching the counter
watching the diners
Wanting they remember her
enough to leave a tip.
He be the man just visiting
from other cooler parts
with no perception of the backstory
she carried.
Her life had carved her face as stony
as the floor where upon she stood.
Past times of past times
weighting heavy upon her shoulders
dulling her eyes into a vacant sight.
Working sub-min-wage
at a truck stop parenthesis
off a nowhere highway,
surviving yet another hot humid day
on her far side of the moon
Her piece of life’s real estate
quite the opposite
of the man at the table,
He who lives
on a brighter side of the moon,
He who would never
could ever
never understand
how dark a dark side
of moon
can be.
Copyright ©
Sarah Ann Jullion
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