At the Main Street Diner,
       “the special for down-on-their-luck poets”

        An orange square of processed American
        A double-flop of baloney
        A dollop of mustard
  
Placed between the right and left-hand justified
        slices of life.

The waitress winks at me :)
       “You’ve got to eat,
        especially knowing your habit
        to take-out rhyme and reason.”

So, I order an appetizer
       cheese-**** and crackers,
       believing in poetry
       that searches for the perfect belly-ache.