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Hopper’s Nighthawks

by Trisha Saxena

For only 5 cents, you can get a cigar.

Strange, for such a pristine sight

at 2 in the morning.

 

 

The man with his back to us, holding

a glass, perhaps of whiskey

seeking refuge from tired modern life

at 2 in the morning in a diner

selling 5 cent cigars.

 

 

 

The man and the woman smirking

hands     almost     touching,

as if such a gentle thing is only meant

for diners that sell 5 cent cigars

at 2 in the morning.

 

The man behind the counter

white cap on blonde hair, smiling

more of a grimace, because really

what else can you expect from a waiter

at a diner selling 5 cent cigars at 2 in the morning?

 

 

 

The world outside is deathly still

no faces in these black windows

almost as if life has ceased to exist.

No movement, even in the bright little diner

selling 5 cent cigars at 2 in the morning.

 

 

 

The coffee has gone cold

and the ice in the whiskey has melted

but the patrons never shift and the waiter never 

falters.

And at 2 am in this picture-perfect diner

they never run out 

of 5 cent cigars.

SPRING 2020

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