Diner

There is a plastic film which kisses the edge of this table
More than likely to protect it from coffee mug stains and
Potentially written messages from dragging and digging of forks and knives

I've sat here for about an hour
Two glasses of orange juice
A cup of coffee- which is now cold as I take my final sips
And scrambled eggs are the items which have traveled far
All to end up in the throes of my screaming stomach

There are two Asian girls sitting in the booth in front of me
Taking snap shots of each other while they share a bowl of sweet potato fries and a strawberry milkshake
I fiddle with the peeling plastic on the far left corner of the table
My eyes dart back and forth from the tower of little plastic cups of preserved berries that sits in a metal contraption at the end of the table-
Back to one of the girls

Whose skin reminds me of a manilla folder
And eyes that flip from open to closed faster than the bite of an angry rottweiler
The white moon of her nails were waning to a crescent
She nibbled away
At both the fries and her nails

The awkward gravity freezes in front of me as I paint an ugly, oversized mustache under the nose of my waitress
She snatches up the crumpled dollars I would've wasted elsewhere and I begin to gather my things as
The bustle of keys to black Range Rovers
And wedding planners sipping diner mimosa's
Gives the air a salty taste of constant dis-satisfaction
The Asian girl with her moon nails takes a close up of her BLT