Some nights I just want some eggs.
Eggs, bacon, toast and coffee.
I want to sit in a Big Boy’s or some old Howard Johnson’s from the ’70’s
I actually want to be there,
in the past,
not as I was then but as I am now.
I want to,
eat off of orange tables,
disturb the waitresses with stories on what the future holds,
drink pots of coffee from a bottomless cup.
Look at my reflection in the window, and consider never leaving.