[here is a revised version of a chapbook borderline poem]
Saturday's my mom and aunt Diane meet for lunch at the Maltby cafe
out in the sticks of Snohomish county: not quite Woodinville, not quite Bothell.
The cafe is in a basement, it's not a secret and it gets real crowded.
The wait is routinely 20 minutes
I am hungry 20 minutes feels like I'm on a hunger strike,
one of my top 5 fears, most the others are in American History X;
whoever thought of curbing must of felt a lot like God did
when he created spitting Cobras.
Chris Cornell signed a poster up on the wall,
huge good food, right next to Bob Nelson from Almost Live.
Stephanie party of 5
Stephanie party of 5
The girl across from me is wearing great big movie star sunglasses.
Is she hungover or possessed by the wandering spirit of Roy Orbison?
We're in a basement for God's sake, and outside the sky is slate gray.
Stephanie party of 5
last call for Stephanie party of 5
come on people!
The two old men next to me reminds me of my Grandpa
who thinks the Communists infiltrated the Democratic party in 1968 and that
there is a giant computer somewhere in the Netherlands that controls everything,
I mean everything: global warming, elections, sports and the cost of cereal.
The old men are talking about Robert Gates,
bald one says oh yeah, he's a spook, all of them are spooks
part of a secret organization.
Skull and Bones?
No, Free Masons.
Mike party of three
Mike party of three
I am picturing my order in my head
mushroom, bacon, sausage and onion omelet
drenched in cheese and a cinnamon roll.
The Maltby Cafe makes plate sized cinnamon rolls
dinner plate size, big dinner plates,
I'm guessing Chris Cornell was talking about the cinnamon roll.
the middle-aged purple-fleeced woman to my left
is reading the Everett Herald,
Couple gets 8 years a piece for boys starving.
I wonder if that boy would have cried
if he saw a Maltby Cafe cinnamon roll in front of him
floating in a pool of gooey frosting.
My lunch just became a memorial.
Diane party of 3
Finally!!
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