Happy national poetry month! A flash poem a day, every day in April!
Red Pleather Seats
above the lunch rush crowd
a clattering, plates and cups
two women sit alone reading
in heaven
a young boy, also alone
on break from the kitchen
intently checks his phone
smiling his escape
one older couple
sits quiet, side by side
looking out at the scene.
Smile at me.
Are they poets too?
I smile back. We’ll never ask.
It’s enough to be happy.
two women
above frothy coffee
debate loudly, first
about dish soap brands, then
about the primary electoral process:
the soap is more interesting
to take sides without hostility
another couple at the end of the diner
stand, look down, embrace
as they leave
a long goodbye is happening
the old man
sitting next to me
works the crossword puzzle:
I wonder if he’d rather be
making love
to his tonic and gin and be
observed by Billy Joel
a barista walks by
waving at people
flannel shirt
cool orange Mohawk
so much love
the teens beside me
discuss the setup of a play
they’re either writing or staring in
over fish tacos.
their passion for the theater
gives me goosebumps.
the waitress
in an NYC sweatshirt
appears to be a long way from home
a middle age couple
older middle age than me
smile as their too-large burgers arrive
chat with the waitress about home
two women talk of their grown children
one expertly wielding a butter knife to
extricate ketchup from the bottle
the other stands and dances
when her Chai latte is ready
Steve Miller sings
about shaking trees and
loving peaches and
Johnny Cash
about the ring of fire
I wonder in earnest if they mind being followed
by some not-great country western.
know instantly
the answer No
It’s only me who minds.
I smile up at them
I feel alive, connected and present
An Artist Heart Is Present
Do you feel the space herself as poetry?
Want to craft dialog right now?
Do you long to sketch or paint the scene?
Are you turning this into music?
Tempted to table dance between?
Are you wondering about the lighting
placing camera in your mind?
Or flying around the space to find
the best place for the mic?
Are you thinking maybe interviews? About a small town life?
Can you see yourself seated
writing essay, article, or story?
Are you acting this on stage
for some fun and maybe glory?
Or are you crafting sets
pots, scarves, or jewelry
to tell your own deep story?
I sing along.
Because I, too, have friends
in low oh oh places
and its fun to join
rockin robin
in his tweedly tweedly tweet
an artist heart is present
it breaks and soars and beats
everywhere
and here
at the diner with
the red pleather seats