A TRIP THROUGH MY EYES
We come here. We always come here for breakfast.
A man sits behind me cleaning his teeth, elbow on the backrest. He and another man, discussing loudly, what, who knows? A boy cleans away trays, little cups of cream, a stirrer, plastic, paper, napkins, hairnets, a woman speaks into a microphone, the order goes to the kitchen. Men in overalls, stripes around each leg, reflective stripes, stand in line.
“Are you next?” Someone says.
Outside, the railroad yard, a train engine, one and another, do they ever turn them off? Two men stare down, the tracks below, early, very early, the fog lifts.
Danville, W.Va. USA
For information about this project: Laura’s Sunday Project