TEATIME WITH A DENNY’S CHEF
Fast forward: a ring sits on my finger,
I sit in a diner.
He’s with someone else,
he looks shocked.
Last sight: shocked,
he sees words pouring from my mouth,
like the seven seas.
The wave hit him like a rocky shore.
First meeting: don’t remember this baby-faced
grown man in twenties,
chef dressed in white coat and slanted cap,
mustache...
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