Poem: A Brief Vacation

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A Brief Vacation

Outside the diner, it is rush hour.
Cars and trucks, mired in the grime of March snows, drive by.
Here inside, forks clink against plates. Conversation reigns.
A spatula clicks against the grill as it makes eggs and hash.

You cup of coffee cools as you disappear.
Eyes closed, you listen to the waves,
water against stone. Rhythmic as breathing.
Your heart slows. Your mind calms.
More real than real, you live in the moment,

not this one, perhaps, with its noise and bluster,
but in the moment nonetheless,
soulful and strengthening.

Shortly you will return to the diner,
to your metal and green vinyl chair.
You will sip your lukewarm coffee.
You will eat your eggs.
A new man, home from vacation,
ready for the day,

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