Life At Hogan’s
Posted April 30, 2010
on:{I will miss this so very much.}
.
Smiles glisten in distorted reflections of table silverware.
Wavy faces trapped under reddish diner lights.
Curvy at the base. Spiraled at the ends.
Getting lost in casual till conversations; savoring them as they unfold.
Kissing ass, but keeping pride.
These lips have standards.
.
Concocting milkshakes, decaf on that coffee, green light – GO.
Lipstick remains on empty Coke glasses.
Pouring water just because.
No rebound this time, better luck next.
Feet cast beneath spells of increasing tempo and movement.
Toes loaded with wave after wave of momentum.
The flow of….energy.
Quick….moving….then quick again.
.
Looking forward to work.
Grease stains mark accomplishment.
Dirty aprons not to be frowned upon.
Feeding off invisible heat from the fryer.
And the grill.
And….the people.
You get what you give.
So give good.
.
Good morning, Mr. Sunday, how lovely you are today.
The door now becomes the alarm clock.
Stuck at a constant – in, out, out, in.
The good kind though, the purest form.
The sound of….happy.
The feeling of….alive.
.
{I am was content here.}
Tags: creative, creative writing, diner, energy, food, happy, Hogan's, job, life, milkshakes, people, restaurant, servers, South Hill, Spokane, waitress
1 | Yona
May 10, 2010 at 4:18 am
Oooo – I love this poem! It created so many visuals.
iplaytrack1224
May 10, 2010 at 9:43 am
Thank you! =]