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Seats sat around standing tables void of conversation, whilst waitresses danced around the homeless clearing up their desperation with no fuss- just a cloth wipe across the surface and a smile to a lonely face; hard wood walls closed in like coffin-lid, coffin-hinged cases. One man alone in the corner held hands with his coffee cup and looked up hoping for familiar faces. And his finger snapped around the rim, for this cup of coffee was his only drink of the day. And his fingers broke around its handle, for this cup of coffee was his wick and leathered-spine candle. And his fingers melded to the cup, because this cup of coffee burnt like coughed-up cigarette butt-stubs.
0
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 1:13 PM UTC
NEW YORK DINER, NEW YORK HOMELESS
Seats sat around standing tables void of conversation, whilst waitresses danced around the homeless clearing up their desperation with no fuss- just a cloth wipe across the surface and a smile to a lonely face; hard wood walls closed in like coffin-lid, coffin-hinged cases. One man alone in the corner held hands with his coffee cup and looked up hoping for familiar faces. And his finger snapped around the rim, for this cup of coffee was his only drink of the day. And his fingers broke around its handle, for this cup of coffee was his wick and leathered-spine candle. And his fingers melded to the cup, because this cup of coffee burnt like coughed-up cigarette butt-stubs.
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tim-knight
Written by
English
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 1:13 PM UTC
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