Diner

The time has come to say goodbye, our plates empty except

for our greasy napkins. Comrades, you on my left, balding,

middle-aged guy with a ponytail, and you, Lefty, there on my

right, though we barely spoke I feel our kinship. You were

steadfast in passing the ketchup, the salt and pepper, no man

could ask for better companions. Lunch is over, the cheese-

burger and fries, the Denver sandwich, the counter nearly

empty. Now we must go our separate ways. Not a fond embrace,

but perhaps a hearty handshake. No? Well then, farewell. It is

unlikely I'll pass this way again. Unlikely we will all meet again

on this earth, to sit together beneath the neon and fluorescent

calmly sipping our coffee, like the sages sipping their tea

underneath the willow, sitting quietly, saying nothing.