Third Shift Blues (poem I wrote this morning)
She was smoking a Black and Mild at 4:30 a.m. at Waffle House
When I spotted her and thought she was absolutely perfect
For a photo, black and white --- coffee skin, tattoo above breast, resigned.
Standing to go, she raised her arms, the shirt slid up, and I saw
That her jeans were unfastened and unzipped for comfort;
She fastened them to complete the dining experience,
coming full circle like a smoke ring leaving the full lips
Like a prayer to the god of crispy bacon and coffee, straight up.
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