Seems like a long time
Since the waiter took my order.
Grimy little luncheonette,
The snow falling outside.
Seems like it has grown darker
Since I last heard the kitchen door
Behind my back
Since I last noticed
Anyone pass on the street.
A glass of ice-water
Keeps me company
At this table I chose myself
Upon entering.
And a longing,
Incredible longing
To eavesdrop
On the conversation
Of cooks.
Since the waiter took my order.
Grimy little luncheonette,
The snow falling outside.
Seems like it has grown darker
Since I last heard the kitchen door
Behind my back
Since I last noticed
Anyone pass on the street.
A glass of ice-water
Keeps me company
At this table I chose myself
Upon entering.
And a longing,
Incredible longing
To eavesdrop
On the conversation
Of cooks.
Sounds like a weird guy... :P
ReplyDeleteSounds like cooks are the more interesting.
ReplyDeleteI like this poem. Grimy, dark, and snowy. The narrator seems a bit unreliable too. Seems... Seems... The water still has ice, so it has not been long enough for the ice to melt. I'm not familiar with luncheonettes do they have waiters or do you seat yourself?
Yeah, a bit odd for sure.