only two things on the menu  
at the A & O Café, sitting somewhere
in the heartland, between the school  
and church, bathed in fickle light  
pocked by hail and weathered by the storms  
though all still go there, and
few think to complain  
about the spare fare  
some ask for theirs sunny side up  
with the gold yolk promise of tomorrow
shining at them, like a hopeful new sun  
others choose over easy, perhaps past hope
and ready for more solid times, still
a few can have them no way but scrambled  
fast fried and slaughtered into yowling yellow
heaped on their plaintive plates  
few ask for the bacon, since it comes
with every meal, the fat hog long ago  
butchered, and part of the A&O; deal