Commander

Squatting in its Art Deco chrome carapace
Barely visible in the night foggy mist
Emitting rays of neon light

The diner looks like the mother ship
Waiting for the crew of night shift
Robots to re-fuel using greasy spoons
And cups of Joe

Inside on the flight deck
Sits one sad soul
Sodden in an old, wet- wool
Boozy smelling coat

Dripping rain water into
The split hide of the booth
Seat oozing bits of yellowish
Stuffing like an autopsy in progress

Studying the fly and food
Speckled menu
Fingers moving along
Braille bumps of dried eggs

He fills his hunger with
The smell of the griddle
The sight of the rotating
Carousel of pies

As Commander of this ship
He places his order
Settles in to watch the
Universe outside the window

Placing packets of sugar
Crackers and ketchup in
His pockets for when they reach
The far reaches of the Galaxy

He waves goodbye to Earth

Find more by Mary E. Cody in the Author Index.

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