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