At the Main Street Diner,

       “the special for down-on-their-luck poets”

        An orange square of processed American

        A double-flop of baloney

        A dollop of mustard

Placed between the right and left-hand justified

        slices of life.

The waitress winks at me 😉

       “You’ve got to eat,

        especially knowing your habit

        to take-out rhyme and reason.”

So, I order an appetizer

       cheese-whiz and crackers,

       believing in poetry

       that searches for the perfect belly-ache.

*First publised by The Main Street Rag