2005 – Damon McLaughlin – From a Diner Window

Poetry selection from the 2005 issue

From a Diner Window
by Damon McLaughlin

The Coca-Cola sign blinks above the Made-Rite,
above which the wind blows a ribbon of snow

like an old moustache. It’s one of those heavy snows
arriving from many directions more than once

and whose flakes, you’d swear, were the size of softballs
made of cotton. There’s that one oak

in this part of town, and there’s you, alone at the counter
with your jacket still on and your feet dripping slush

off the stool to the yellow floor. If this is winter, you imagine
you could love it, as you could love the coffee in this diner,

your hands warming on the cup, as you imagine as easily
you could love the person beside you

whose name you do not know and whose face changes
often, swirls in the window like snow in the bitter cold.


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