Poetry | Perspective | Reassessment
Just Chaos, Dear
I sat down at the counter and held up a hand.
The waitress glided over and poured coffee into a cracked mug.
Her smile was loose, too practiced I supposed. Too many
long nights with low tips and a worsening sense of appreciation.
She touched the point of her pen to her tongue — blue dots everywhere -
and held it over the pad waiting. Like a pronouncement from the Pope
was impending. I got nervous. “You need a minute, dear?”
I need absolution, I muttered. Then pointed to the breakfast special.
“How do you want your eggs, dear?”
Thrown at me, one at a time. I thought, but she didn’t hear it.
Over easy. Like my life. Like the winds whipping through the canyons.
Like Jesus laying hands on the beggar and bringing him back to life.
Her eyes found me over the top of the pad and the smile was gone.
She reached over and placed her hand over mine. Eyes never leaving mine.
“You about ready to chuck it in, dear?”
I nodded, tears rolling down my cheeks into the already lukewarm…
