Greasy Diner

Sitting across the dirty table
in this greasy derelict diner
with a grin on your face
that can only be sustained
by someone that’s building the strength
to tell me it’s over.

You start your words
and like a train rushing by
the sound shifts, the colors fade
windows fog up, my plate cracks
and the coffee turns to water.

The clouds from the griddle fill my lungs
as little droplets of your excuses
get sucked Into my arteries
and travel to my brain to stifle
every version of us
In the future.

Because this tune is familiar
I know the meter will change
and the melody will shift
from C Major to A minor.
The keys cackle under my fingernails,
The sustain pedal can hold us no longer.

I shift my weight on the bench
and a billiard bag of fire ants
pour down my left leg like hot coffee
eating my flesh off
as I smile, nod and act agreeable.

The dark clouds don’t last long in Houston.
The thunder storm blows over
The gutters of my welled up eyes drain
and your smile returns like the spying sun.

I look into your eyes,
I smile, and I say,
Take good care of yourself.
Try to find your way back to me.
And just like that you are once again free.

E. Saglamer