April 17, 2009

Sentimental Fool

Vacation mornings
like so many dawns
age poignant in retrospect
like grape juice into wine.

Even the walk-ons
and stray characters in our film
now seem larger than life
in the afternoon vintage.

Like the tall plain-faced waitress
who served us coffee and biscuits and
omelets and pancakes while I mused
"What a nice place to work."

That morning so recent and so long ago
with a comradely rain that made for privacy
lingers like the black coffee we sipped forever
two pots and three sitting on the granite counter
like time immemorial.

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