The booth was claustrophobic.
The sports section I held between
us
was like a volleyball net,
your stares lofting over
like shots of fresh egg
I couldn’t spike.
When Alice came to take your order
and you looked at each other
for the first time, the silence
was as thick as the coffee.
Twins – identical,
if her hair had been curled
and she’d had some cleavage.
I can’t remember who
was first to speak, probably me,
but then you ordered.
One egg, one sausage –
one carb.
I felt I had to order two of
something
just on principle.
You ripped my ‘Post’ to shreds
and smashed my reading glasses
before you stormed out of the
diner.
I wasn’t sure if it was the five
sugars
I snuck in your coffee
or my comment about
your hang-ups being cultural,
most likely it was my suggestion
we get together with the waitress
when she was done her shift.
I stood four-eyed in front
of the cash register
as Alice gave me six quarters
change for a dollar
for a USA Today,
winked, cracked her gum,
lightly dragged her forefinger
across her lower lip,
stuck out her studded tongue
and walked back into the kitchen.
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