At This Time, I Would Love to Be In a Diner

I would love a refill of lukewarm coffee

under low, yellow lights—

to open sugar packets and dairy creamers,

watch white curdles float to the rim.

I would love some slaw on the side

of fish cakes and

whole wheat toast soaked in the yolk

of an egg, over easy.

I would love a wobbly table—

to unfold the free, local paper,

read daily horoscopes to friends;

pass the handle-sticky syrup jar. 

I would love to watch chortling babies

stain their bibs with jam packets—

to smell pancake batter on the griddle, hear bacon sizzle

amidst the clatter of conversation and cutlery.

Emily Bulicz-Arnelien