Diner Date

An hour passes to watched clocks
and a third coffee refill
before she stands bound for toilets

and her mom's Mercury in the parking lot.
She weaves through mid-morning diners,
bored waitresses, and sees he's there,

twitching with caffineine and impatience,
a wrong footed first date delayed
by his baseball cap and her nervous eyes,

them missing each others faces
and settling worlds away,
until now.

Photo by David Sifry; Poetry by Heather Taylor