Confession of a Time Traveler

You remember the diner. The one with the yellow walls?
It wasn’t really as big as it looked in the picture,
and you can’t really see the other side, with the entrance
and the individual tables. A couple hours before

it was packed. Eddie didn’t care for crowds, so no surprise
when I walked in and found them in the farthest front corner.
Like this. You cross the street toward the glowing, the yellow box.
That’s the diner. The door is right of center, serving bar

to the left and tables to the right. Turn right. Do you see?
In the corner by the windows. Over there. Five people
at a four-person table. I can’t see the complete group,
the couple on the far side, since Eddie towers over

everyone. Jo is by the window, with Eddie leaning
slightly sideways, cocked towards her, as if trying to make space
between him and the third guy who just pulled up a new chair.
Eddie’s hair always did go darker and thin in winter.

So. That’s what I see. You see Nighthawks, and I look across,
past the canvas’s edge, to the other side of the room.
Eddie squeezed in, angled uncomfortably over Jo.
The smell of hot oil & coffee, the roar of politeness.

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6 responses to “Confession of a Time Traveler

  1. I am so glad, Patricia, that I continue to get your poetry in the email. Always a delight – both intellectually and esthetically . I feel lucky indeed.

    • And I feel so lucky to be able to do this, at least once a year, and to have readers who value and appreciate my efforts. Thank you for reading, and thank you for commenting. It helps generate the energy to keep me going with this.

  2. Pingback: No nighthawks, just a diner | Via Negativa

  3. The roar of politenes is a great line. I was transported back to A2 and the Cloverleaf, Angelos, and Blimpys.Mmm the smell of coffee and breakfast.

  4. Pingback: Confession Series, 2012 #NaPoWriMo #30in30 | Rosefire Rising

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