Member-only story
The Dust Devil Diner
It’s running late
At the far end of a lonely ride
I stopped at a diner for a bite to eat
and suffered the scrutiny of those inside
as I strolled to the bar to find my seat.
The barman asked, “What’ll ya have, son?”
“A brew and a menu to start,” I said
he drew two pints and held onto one
while swabbing sweat from his gibbous forehead.
A group of church ladies cursed in the corner
as they played mahjong dressed all in style
the vicar smiled to comfort a mourner
and his mouth was full of dragon tiles.
I began to feel a little uneasy
when lightning struck the tree just outside
through grimy windows came sunlight streaming
and thunder rattled a cloudless sky.
Just then, a rooster in the rafters called out
“Is that sanitary?” I asked the barman
the old man shrugged and sipped his stout
“A cockerel crows to his harem,” he said.
