slide on over here along that worn vinyl booth
can’t wait to touch any part of you I can reach
we’ll try not to spill the coffee
(at least not more than the cranky waitress with too much makeup did)

let’s whisper behind the laminated menu
greasy sweet words of endearment
while jukebox junkies troll for gems

nobody notices love in a diner
not with all the faux vibrancy and chrome
or gleaming cracked floors and disinfected condiments

we’ll laugh amid the inevitable french fries
build towers with packets of sugar and draw hearts in spilled salt
wink through asking for the check