No Wonder I Like This Place
Dishes clank. Sausage sizzles on the griddle.
It is a hopping place,
Noisy with customers and waitresses calling across the counters,
this Waffle House in the middle of no where,
the spot between where you were
and where you are going,
this place with it’s mediocre coffee
and memory laced hash browns, covered and chunked.
There is a beautiful anonymity here.
All of us strangers full of friendly banter
that actually don’t care much what and who
each other is. It is enough that we are here,
passing each other, people to be kindly to
simply because we exist.