Ode to the Diner

Give me a booth, with an ashtray, pour sugar container,

the lights dim and dreary, and gum under my table top;

Give me the place, where stools line the counter, an over the

road trucker reeks of two day stench, and talks of

hauling cattle over a narrow mountain pass;

Give me the room, where the grill cook wears a T-shirt,

scraping grease into a pan of bacon fat,

hot from a BLT just made minutes before;

I want my eggs runny, biscuits covered in a gray goo, that

sits in your stomach till the next afternoon,

I want all-you-can-eat spaghetti for a dollar ninety-nine,

at 3am., where the waitress works harder than an

assembly line worker only to get a 25 cent tip;

I want my coffee black, for 50 cents a cup, and free

refills, so I can have a cheap buzz to drive the next

1000 or so miles of open road;

this IS the America I love, where people can’t hide honesty,

work for a days’ pay, and struggle sleep each morning just to stay alive,

IT’S REAL.

Take away the veggie burgers, that replaced chicken fried

steak smothered in sausage gravy;

Take away Martha Stewart, and her mozzarella & basil sandwiches,

that take a 1/2 hour to simmer and fluff;

Take away tofu salads, Alfalfa sprouts with ultra light organic sesame oil,

that even rabbits have a hard time to swallow;

So, give me the not-so-clean floors, and a shaker of salt

that pours out faster than a river with white water;

So, give me the onion rings, with ketchup so thick, you need

to use a knife to get it out of the bottle;

So, give me a Diner; where the food is steaming hot, where I

can spend 5 dollars, and can leave a 30% tip from the change.

Bumba Dee Da,... Happy Trails!