Diner Logic
by Jonah Mercer
· 22/11/2025
Published 22/11/2025 10:49
The waitress works the rag in heavy rings,
scrubbing at a ghost of purple jam.
She’s tired of the way the coffee clings
and I’m just tired of being who I am.
At 3:00 AM the fluorescent hum is loud.
I trace the yellowed edge where heat met glue,
a cigarette burn left by a different crowd
long before I had nothing left to do.
This counter doesn’t care about the stain
or the bleach that tries to strip it to the bone.
It’s built to hold the weight of all the rain
and people who would rather sit alone.