Grits and Gingham

And they would dance...
her in that Pink waitress outfit with soiled Gingham apron,
and those White nurse shoes...
scuffed at the right toe and worn down on one side from standing too long in one spot,
and that Hail Mary doily hat.
Queen of the diner...
and the greying greaser...
Brylcreem D.A and Navy tat on sagging bicep,
worn White t-shirt with Wild Turkey stench,
biscuits and gravy grease and those Kool cigarettes rolled up in one sleeve.
As they danced around the jukebox,
Tapioca pudding stuck to the floor,
flies sitting this one out with the Cherry Coke dried to the table.
A collage of cheap tin and glass ashtrays...
holding a buffet of over-chewed Juicy Fruit gum and Marlboros.
Silver napkin holder gleaming like a princess' mirror waiting for her prince,
"Rose Garden" playing on the jukebox,
children playing at the waitress table in the corner...
Jacks, Old Maid and Go Fish.
Good and Plenty and Bazooka gum.
Coloring books with cheap wax crayons, flat on one side with the paper peeled off.
Johnny Cash walks-the-line as Tommy yells, "Order up!"...

the kitchen doors swing open like high noon in a John Wayne movie at the town saloon...
and the Vietnam cowboys walk out the front door onto the concrete Ponderosa into an Appalachian sunset.
©2008∞Copperhead

*Watch the video on the Visual Poetry page tab on the top of my blog*