Diner on Main Street

A visit to a quaint, small-town diner.

Parking the car near the walk of clean concrete,

we step onto the country street

and fish for coins; finding a nickel and dime

to feed the parking meter, we climb

steep steps and enter the "Steel Trolley Diner."

Inside, the Norman Rockwell scene is complete:

customers in colorful shirts cap silver counter

stools, blue curtains cool window sills, and a red

Coca Cola clock ticks above a busy grill.

Spatulas scrape amid conversation as eggs spill

and speak with a language of their own.

White uniformed, wearing a Stetson and sneakers,

the waitress takes our order, her blond

ponytail hanging like a satin rivulet

across her shoulders and streaming down her back.

On the table, paper place mats display

a local map.  I find the county seat

and a covered bridge beyond the railroad track.

We smear homemade rolls with grape jelly,

drink coffee, and consume a pacific hour

of Americana.

Reviews

[Poeticadia]

This poem perfectly conveys the atmosphere of the place it describes in such colorful and vibrant detail. You have brought the whole scene to life here with a clear poetic voice - and through these words i can also feel the 'togetherness' of the 'we' just gently alluded to at the beginning and the end of the poem. Excellent!

[ice]

Wow! Richard, I can't believe that there has only been onn review of this, I shouldn't say much, mine has been missing from it to..
But not now, now that I see it, I need to tell you that it is very good, a glimpse of Americana..Garrison Kielor would like this, and maybe put it in "Pretty Good Poems", part two. I am glad it placed in Poeticadias contest, maybe more will read.

[Tomás Ó C..]

Reminds me so much of the Eddie Rockets diners we have in Ireland with the 1950's Americana decor theme... they do damn good food, amkes me hungry thinking of them!