I walk into the diner. It’s empty now. It’s about that time that the blue-collars are gone and the white-collars aren’t quite here yet, so it seems like it’s just for me now. Maybe I’ll sit at the counter. No, I don’t want to sit at the counter, I want a booth. A nice booth. Why not, after all, the diner’s empty. Couldn’t hurt them to let me have a booth.
Waiter comes up to me, a young guy, a little too enthusiastic I guess, but it’s his job. He asks me if anyone else will be joining me. No, no one else will be joining me. It’d be kind of surprising if someone else did, so I tell him no. Not now, not today. Not ever, but he doesn’t need to know that much. Can I have a booth please, I ask. Yes sir, he says. Yes, sir. “Sir”. That’s rare now, I guess. I don’t even call someone “sir”. Good kid, I guess.
Thanks I say as we walk over to the booth, and I grab a paper, a copy of the Press of Atlantic City. It’s either that or Asbury Park, and I think I’m a little far south for the Asbury Park Press. I take my seat, order an orange juice and open up the paper. I read a couple of articles, maybe. Not really. I skim. It’s kind of early for reading. I put the paper away. It’s too early for reading, I’ll read it later I think. Maybe I’ll read it later. I’ll sip my orange juice for now.
Do you need a couple more minutes? Yeah, yeah I do. The menu I can read. The diner’s still empty. Waiter walks around a little, pretends to fix stuff up while I glance over the menu. Do I want eggs? Maybe. In New York they don’t cook them sunny-side up. Sunny-side up is how I like them. Bothers my stomach though, makes me feel like shitting for another few hours after I eat the eggs. Maybe pancakes will do. It’s kind of funny how empty the diner is though. Just caught it between the rushes, I guess. Don’t normally see a diner this goddamned quiet.
Maybe a waffle will do. No, the waffles here suck. They did last time I had them, anyway. Who likes waffles? Dave likes waffles, always orders the fucking waffles every time we come here. Not that that’s very often, that me and Dave come here, but when we do he orders waffles. What’s he doing now? Probably still working for the county. Best job he’ll ever get. Never the brightest guy, I don’t think. Not really that, but never exactly motivated. County’s good for him. Steady paycheck, steady work, benefits. It’s a good job. Not for me, really, but for him. Him and his fucking waffles. Another sip of orange juice.
Pancakes it is. With a side of sausage. Turkey sausage? Why the hell not. Beef is bad for you. Won’t digest right, body doesn’t know how or something. I love meat. Makes me feel like shit though. Eggs and meat. My two favorite things, my two least favorite things. Funny how that works. Yeah, turkey sausage. Might as well make the pancakes whole wheat. Toss a side of fruit on there too, go the whole goddamned nine yards. Too bad I can’t order a beer. That’d be nice. Whole wheat pancakes, turkey sausage, cup of fruit, and a fucking Budweiser. Make it a Bud Light I guess. Keep with the healthy theme.
Waiter leaves. I check my phone, nothing new. Well something new, but not like, calls or anything. Girls. Girl. Never girls, just Girl. One at a time. I’m too old to handle more than that I think. I wonder if I should call Girl. She got kind of pissy last night. Who cares. Send her flowers or something I guess. The sex is at least worth that. Better than no sex. I’ll probably end up with that though. Girl will probably leave and my hand and me will get real close again. Fuck. Fucking girls. Women. Whatever. So much easier back then.
Take another sip of orange juice. Maybe head up north later. Visit Parents. Good old moms and pops. Maybe. Haven’t seen them in a while. Probably better off. Better than answering a bunch of questions I can’t answer. Where you working, who you seeing. I’m seeing Girl, mom. No, you’ll never meet her. I think we’re done. I don’t know when I’ll settle down. Yes, I’m looking for work. It’s harder than you think. No, I’m not going back to school. Not worth going back mom. I’ll find work. Don’t worry. Yes I’m going to church. Sure. Tell them something they want to hear at least.
Waiter comes back with the pancakes. It’s maybe five before eight now. Pretty quick. Diner’s still empty though. Still quiet. Waiter goes back and pretends to do some more work. Boss isn’t here, I don’t know why he bothers. Good kid, I guess. Better than I would have been. Well, I wouldn’t have been up. I never woke up early back then. I can’t do anything but now. Oh well. It’s better for me. More time to think. More day to conquer. Seize the day and all that bullshit. Seize the beach. Seize the bar. Bar will come later. Beach first.
Maybe I’ll run. I haven’t done that in a long time. Probably about six months now. I always say I’ll start up again, I never do though. Shocker. Hard to run with a hangover. Stomp stomp stomp, pound pound pound, ow-my-fucking-head ow-my-fucking-head ow-my-fucking-head. That sort of thing. One of these days I’ll pick it up again. One of these days I’ll go back to the gym. Get back in shape. Not that I ever really get out of shape. Out of shape, maybe, but never like… fat. Rick got fat. A fat doctor. I’d like to think that’s irony, but I know too many fat doctors. You’d think if someone cared about their body it would be a doctor. Nah. Maybe I don’t know too many fat doctors. Rick’s fat though. Fucking huge, that guy.
Take another sip. These pancakes are nice and soft. Spread the butter all over them, toss some syrup on. It’s fine, they’re whole wheat pancakes. With turkey sausage. And a cup of fruit. I don’t like this turkey sausage though. Too… too… something. I don’t know. Just isn’t quite right. It’s alright I guess. Fruit’s good. Can fruit be bad? Yeah, fruit can be bad. I’ve had bad fruit. Not since college though. Most fruit is good I think. Bananas are good. Apples are good. These are mangos or cantaloupe or some shit. Still good. Take another sip of the orange juice.
Waiter comes over. How is everything? Fine, Waiter. Can I get you anything? No Waiter I’m fine. Seriously. I should have told Waiter to leave me alone. Good kid. Tries too hard though. If something was wrong, I’d tell him. Otherwise it’d be nice to eat in peace. I like eating in peace. I don’t like eating with anybody. Forcing conversation. Finding something to say. Otherwise just sit and silence, and then what’s the point of eating with someone, other than to make you self-conscious. Wondering what they think about you, about what you order, about how you ordered it. I’d rather eat alone. Too much pressure to eat with someone else. Probably would have ordered two fruit cups.
Take another sip of orange juice. It’s eight now. My pancakes are gone. Good pancakes. Better than waffles. Fucking Dave. Him and his goddamned waffles, and his trimmed hair, and county job. Fucking Dave. Probably going on ten years there now. Five with his wife I guess. I told him he should go to college, but he didn’t listen. I’ll get a job with the county, he said. Got his county job, got his wife. Got some kids too. Fucking Dave.
Check, Waiter. Coffee sir? Yeah, actually. Large one, to go, shot of espresso. We don’t have espresso sir. No espresso Waiter? No sir, just coffee sir. Good kid. Not his fault they don’t have espresso. I like some espresso in my coffee, just one shot. Give it an extra kick. That or a shot of Jameson’s. Too early for that though. I guess no espresso either though. Not today. Waiter clears the table. Good kid. Tries too hard though.
Waiter brings back the check and my coffee. I put some milk and sugar in, stir it up, check how much I owe. Ten bucks. Ten and seventy-three cents, actually. Fucking expensive. Fucking Seaside Diner. Ripoff. Could have went to IHOP for that kind of money. Could have had some much better pancakes. Maybe with some chocolate chips. Could have had some Eggs Benedict, some nice creamy hollandaise on it, stalk of broccoli on the side. Stalk? Stem? Whatever. Some broccoli on the side. Could have had that for ten fucking bucks.
Five after eight now. Diner’s starting to fill up again. Waiter’s over serving a couple in the corner, Waitress is with a group of five in suits over there by the door. I open up my wallet and fish for some bills. I think I have some. I hope I have some. Fifteen… that should do it. Big tip I guess. Waiter’s a good kid though. He tries too hard, but he’s a good kid I think. Give him a good tip. Fucking expensive though. Leave the paper here I guess. Sun’s pretty bright outside now, maybe I’ll head to the beach. Do some reading or something. Read the paper, maybe. Maybe.
Three more in suits sit down in the booth behind me as I stand up. Waiter says goodbye, have a nice day sir. Yeah, you too. Take another sip of my orange juice. One last sip. Drop the money, head out the door. It’s pretty bright out, I guess.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
BREAKFAST AT THE SEASIDE DINER (AROUND SEVEN FORTY-FIVE)
ENVELOPED, I SAID GOODBYE (WORDS I NEVER SAID)
I let you go, I said goodbye.
I let you walk
out the door, love followed.
But you—
you slammed it shut,
let the cold envelop you,
left me in the warmth.
But you—
no, you, I let you go.
Love followed, out the door—
slammed it shut.
I said goodbye, in the warmth.
I let the cold envelop you.
But you were warm—
I let you go,
love followed you out.
The door slammed shut.
I said goodbye,
enveloped in the cold.
Enveloped in the cold,
I let you go.
I slammed the door shut.
You were warm, love followed you.
I should have never—
never—
said goodbye.
Monday, January 7, 2008
Untitled
I plan it all out, what I will say and how and when
And I go to the party to wait for you
But when you don’t show up
I end up surrounded by hip, happy people,
The debate over Darfur echoes around me
Everyone Mills about and talks about what the music scene is about now
Really
And how the village is dying, for good this time, because of the yuppies
Again
And I star into the bonfire and die a little inside
I don’t even fit in with the poets
christmas 07
The house is warm and I sit with my parents and unwrap presents and smile and laugh and eat chocolate chip cookies still warm from the oven but I
Don’t tell them about her
And she sits 200 miles away with her parents and unwraps an iPod and laughs and rubs her belly and doesn’t tell them about
The operation I have set up
And my friends are spread out across the country and
Danny leaves out his grades and Jessica leaves out her boyfriend and Alex leaves out the blow jobs and the cheating and Jason leaves out what he had done that dark, rainy, drunk night and why
His car has blood under the hood
Because, well
We all have secrets right?
It’s important to be happy on Christmas
And our parents?
They sit and laugh
And confuse children with angels
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