poetry
The best place for a hangover
The best place for a hangover
Is a dimly lit diner
Where everyone hustles but the waitresses
To include the nicotine-flavored wallpaper
Tearing down the walls toward Motza ball soup
Brewed three days ago by the owner’s aging Mother
While she sang with Dean Martin on an old cassette tape.
The usual old couple, both with beards of varying length
Always take the attention of the owner before ordering
The same three meals as the night before:
Two eggs over easy
Two eggs over hard
And a newspaper printed last week.
As house whiskey and beer
Drop quiet from your pores
And an onion roll covered in mayonnaise and roast beef
Floats from the fat women’s plate at the linoleum table across the aisle
You can’t help but smile.
I’ll see you there on Saturday
I hope you’re still drunk
And I hope you’re not a cop
There’s a good chance you will be.