The Beacon Of Winchester County

I love poems about motels, hotels, bars & diners.

The Beacon of Winchester County
by Jon Lavieri

As if the night has opened
its one, bleary eye, that light
goes on in the diner.
Every now and then the town black and white
coasts by, watching and yawning.
Nothing keeps time but the wax and wane 
of the stainless steel coffee urns,
bolted to the wall like models
for skyscrapers of the future.
You know the couple working
that sleepy narrow line have been there
since they were childhood sweethearts.
Now they move around each other perfectly,
as if touching broke the plates.
The two sitting next to each other.
staring at their faces in the coffee,
were married once, to other people
probably still in Winchester somewhere.
I am here for now. My back to the window,
fifteen cents for a twenty cent coffee.
Too late to be passing through
but to be among these quiet strangers
who care even less about talking to me
as I to them as we pour our faces into our cups.


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