It’s a by-product of liking to drink.  You’re going to have times that you get really hungry and you need that breakfast at all hours of the morning.  It also happens when you have to wait for an early morning train after being in the bars too long.  I find myself straggling into an all nite diner around 4:00AM needing breakfast and a couple shots of joe to keep me going long enough to get on my train.


There are three lesbians at the next table.  They are tormenting the Hell out of the waiter.  By his mannerisms, I suspect he’s gay.  I’m finding myself a bit amused by the scene.  They have obviously had a better night than I have.  There’s absolutely nothing this waiter can do right for them.  I’m amused but I also feel bad for the guy.


The poet in me starts analyzing the scene and thinking “Hmm, this has all the earmarks of a funny albeit politically incorrect poem.”


And, of course, my muses start nagging me,  “Well Dumbass, if you had brought a pen with you, you could be writing a poem on the napkin right now.”


I think to ask the waiter if I can borrow a pen but I figure he’s already suffered enough.  But anyhow, I managed anyhow since my long term memory functions at a significantly higher level than my short term memory.


My muses are bitches but at least they’re always looking out for what is in my own best interest.  I really should have had a pen and notepad to capture moments.  It’s a shortcoming I try to avoid but still fail from time to time.



Author's Notes/Comments: 

Waiting for a train home from Penn Station, New York

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