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$10 Bill
by Daniel PetersonThe golden hash browns—
as greasy and seemingly wrinkled
as his nose
(and the rest of his face)
were crinkled;
the molten haste—
as uneasy and seemingly unglued
as his eggs
(and the rest of his plate)
were construed; and
the ten dollar Bill—
as facile and seemingly low-rent
as his morning
(and the rest of his life)
had been spent. 10/06/2010 Author's Note: It always seems sort of anachronistic to me anymore when I see someone pay with a wad of cash at a diner.
Posted on 10/07/2010
Copyright © 2024 Daniel Peterson
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Therese Elaine on 10/07/10 at 05:01 AM Sometimes the best moments in life are the anachronistic ones...someday we'll be throwbacks to something archaic and you won't be able to buy the memory of late-night diner coffee conversation or early morning scrambled eggs and toast wakeup rituals, for anything less than perfect credit and impossible odds... |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 10/07/10 at 01:00 PM A great snapshot of our age. It is one that if taken with an I phone might be seen a century from now in some text book on archeology at the U of then and now. Well done. |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 10/07/10 at 09:02 PM People always think it's weird that I carry cash, so naturally I was able to enjoy the hell out of this. Good stuff, sir. |
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