Platonic

She says, we should make this platonic

and I say, that’s fine, that’s fine

so I take her to Denny’s and we sit in

a little booth with padded plastic seats

patched with electrical tape, peeling

ancient and thin and

we dine on slightly-burned coffee

thick yellow eggs instead of the past

waiters in linens, silver ornaments

rich wines and bleeding prime rib, I watch

the cotton waiter watching us

and the gaggle of teenagers

doing stupid teenage s**t

and the homeless drunks cutting salt

into lines at the counter

and the girls with their giggling

hopeless blues and greens and browns

and the cops with suspicious sidearm

side-eye, hey boy, what you doin?

and the din becomes a mumble

I can feel her disapproval on my cheek

the weight of her frown and

she says, you know, this isn’t what I had in mind

and I say, babe, I think this is what

platonic boils down to…

peeled electrical tape

bad coffee

but thick, yellow eggs.

Reviews

[Fabian G. Franklin]

This was brilliant writing, my friend. I like the commotion of the restaurant atmosphere. It felt real to me. And having sat at 2:30 am in many an Omelette Shoppe and Waffle House, I know the feeling rather well. Great work.