Breakfast on the Road by Dr. Sandy Shugart
While I linger at the corner table
Savoring the last of the lukewarm coffee
Dark and sweet as the Miami night that
Only just surrendered to the morning
Feeling no great compulsion to any activity
My neighbor lands in a rush of readiness
Luggage, newspapers, all-American breakfast in hand
Half perched on the seat, ready to spring, at what signal?
He whips his oatmeal into alertness
Downs juice like a whiskey shot
Prowling the paper, shooting caffeine
Scanning the crowd, sizing up
The other predators
Stretching before the wilderness of work
Then he's gone
Almost before he could leave an impression
In the seat
Only crumbs and hastily paid bill remain
To track his passing
And I, still watching from my dish-cluttered blind
Eye the indifferent staff who wonder
When the table will turn
