The patrons wobble, stagger, and shuffle in
through the heavy glass doors, accompanied
by bus fumes and the voice on a loud speaker
Hacking and spitting, clenching sweat soaked
tissues, combing greasy wet hair and tugging
at restricted body parts
Purple floral and respirators, cigarettes and
polyester, order undercooked eggs with frozen hash
browns.
Waitresses stand talking to regulars
holding coffee pots that need to be warmed.
One paper thin waitress with ketchup stains
on her white tennis shoes,
watches her section, picking at her eye
make-up
She flicks some sort of matter away with her
fingers, coughs a smoker's hardy cough
and delivers a plate of chicken fried
steak to table number six.
The loud speaker blasts, " Gate 13 is now
boarding.
I fell in love with this poem. The atmosphere is so thick I could chew it and blow bubbles. It reminds me a little of the Greyhound station in Pittsburgh. Except they don't serve breakfast there. But they do have an abundance of people flicking matter.
Reviewed by Romantic Scorpio (Reader)
Reviewed on July 1, 2002
A pinnacle of description molding visuals transcending me there. This could be a part of a script for a movie.
Reviewed by Cathy Montgomery (Reader)
Reviewed on April 29, 2002
Felt purposeful to me! Captured it all for the reader--powerful imprint on my imagination's eye, anyway.
The gifted and fascinating Urban Poet, Asa D Seeley, once again speaks. He introduces a New Genre of Poetry...Reality Confrontation. Juxtaposed with Essay and staying true to his unique style, Asa brings a breath of...fresh air...to the world of poet
Imogene, a country-bred girl, longs to make a life for herself in New York City. She joins forces with her former college roommate to start a movie production company in the big city.
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elliott
Just my humble opinion.
May Lu $*_*$