The “night crew” assembles at the usual watering hole. Small glasses of poison are clashed together and consumed. We banter to each other, for hours, about the things we wish we could say to our customers. The chaperone turns on the lights and says that you for coming, but get out.
***
This seems like the best idea, as we shiver in the cold of the night. I throw my proverbial cautions to the wind and a red car guides us to the late night / early morning destination. Tomorrow I know I’ll regret this.
***
The vinyl of the red and yellow booth squeals, as we pack in together. Coffee is ordered, served, inhaled and refilled. We become those customers that we wish we could say things to. A feast of pancakes and omelets are laid out before us.
***
The red car and I part ways and I maneuver myself on to the freeway. My blood surges as I realize that I’m lost. An exit presents itself and spits me out somewhere foreign. Classical music plays from my stereo, as I beg Mozart to guide me home.
That's it? IHOP is as bold as you get? Fake maple syrup is your drug of choice?
ReplyDelete:)
Nice series, especially good ending, very literary, very lyrical.