Last American Diner
And then there's chocolate shakes, half poured, the rest
canistered, ice-fuzzed steel scoots ouija board-
like to mini jukebox, flip-card lists test
our memories, who sang Dream Weaver? Lord
knows why locals mayo up their fries. Bored,
too, with menu prose, watch waitress skid stop,
skate wheels plow through rug nap, frat boys ignored.
Teen divas tear pieces off a burger, lop
off float foam, divvy nachos, my four-top
seats me, Jose, Big George, the Razz, we drink
to ska, hard rock, reggae, big band, bebop,
watch girls, talk cars, mark want ads, mostly think
where we gonna go? gonna do? you wrong
razz says, chill, we ain't gonna live that long.