at five past midnightnunder a flickering open signnthat went out just as soon as i walked through the doornnin the diner in late julyni found the meaning of lifenand what every patron and waitress that night was waiting fornni sat alone in a back boothnstumbled over some half truthsnabout how i was expecting someone, and i'd be needing the extra roomnnthe waitress was listlessnworking overtime and double shiftsnand staring longingly at the doornnthe tragic parody of adult lifenwas playing out in front of me that nightnlike a dream where you wanna run, but your legs have all but diednnand i could've sat with some old friends near the frontnthe uninvited guests in the town we're fromnand shared the lives we lived with the strangers we've becomennor i could've sat on a barstool and had a drinknto forget the things i had to do that weeknall the hearts i'd have to break, and all the homes i'd have to leavennor i could've called over the waitress who came undonenconfessed that i'm not waiting for anyonenand if you'd like, i think you oughta sit with me when you're donennbut the door had just finished swinging shutnand the manager was spitting and cursing her lucknthe waitress was already gone.