Breakfast Musings at IHOP

He rambles. She feigns interest
but she’s not interested in whatever he has to say. I remember when we
talked to each other that way. Like when everyone wondered why we were “together” because they didn’t understand. I don’t understand. But I don’t judge either.

 I’m sitting here alone
eating my pancakes
and my hash browns
just the way I like ‘em
drowned in syrup.
I listen.
I observe.
The couple next to me
that has nothing to say to one another
that sounds remotely interesting.
He rambles.
She feigns interest
but she’s not interested
in whatever he has to say.
I remember when we
talked to each other that way.
Like when everyone wondered why we were “together”
because they didn’t understand.
I don’t understand.
But I don’t judge either.
Let them have their happiness where they can steal it.
And then there’s the waitress,
I’ve been her too.
Too many times before.
She smiles at me.
Her aura is warm
as she memorizes
her clients orders to perfection.
She is perfect at her job.
But you see the cracks of worry behind her actions.
She doesn’t think she’s as perfect
as she really is.
Clink clink go the forks
and the glasses.
People’s chatter.
Laugher.
It stills the moments of silence
into moments of chaotic noises.
And these people’s
feelings and actions
background thoughts
are louder than the actual sounds.
Then there’s the married couple.
The one that makes you say to yourself
I don’t think I want to ever be married;
I don’t think I want to ever have kids;
if it looks and feels like that.
But the little kid laughs.
And the dad looks content.
And the mother drinks from her glass.
And you wonder again...
maybe with the right person
the right time or space...
All in a day’s work I guess.
All these thoughts and revelations
over a warm cup of coffee
and some breakfast.