Slick, like the formica tops
of the wobbly tables, time
got away with her own tears.

They glided off of her,
leaving thick cola drops
of bitter youth,
sweet milkshake hearts
made on a sunny day.
Blood from the fighting.

The neon letters flicker,
the police lights flash,
as the waitress wipes and wipes
just in case a stain is left.

Advertisements

Comments on: "Pain in an old cafetaria" (9)

  1. Fabulous! I can really visualise this, like a scene in an American movie!

  2. Absolutely!😊 xx

  3. Great poem, Ina! I love “sweet milkshake hearts” and I can definitely see this in a movie, like Chris mentioned! ♥

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: