The Galaxy Diner

The diner stands a hundred yards away,

a graveyard decked in vinyl, red and gold.

Though now it squats, amassing dust and mold,

it was once the church of pies and pinball play.

The football team sat down, like every day,

and waitress Agnes Truman, growing old,

delivered burgers, fries, and shakes so cold,

a feast for quarterbacks upon her tray.

At the counter sits the gang: there’s Nedrick Nerd,

by Sissy S**t, her hand on his khaki thigh.

And Peggy Prude’s beside them with her beau,

ol’ Johnny Jock, who’s now six feet below.

Entombed, like most the kids from Clarksville High,

inside the rock ‘n’ roll the jukebox purred.

Author's Note

How well does the rhythm flow in the poem?
What kind of aesthetic is evoked by characters, setting, and images used?
How well is the "point" driven home, if at all?

Reviews

[jesserose99]

You do a really amazing job painting a picture, so descriptive. Can see the eyesore collecting dust on it's memories gone.