You sip your coffee. Black.

Like society teaches a man should.

Smoke another cigarette you rolled yourself.

The smoke rises to the tar caked ceiling.

The room is slowly closing in on you.

Your lungs are slowly closing in on you.

You don’t care.

Fill your gut with the same grease you feed your mind.

The grill doesn’t discriminate.

Neither do you.

It’s the people that keep you coming back for more.

You need your nightly fix of Diner.

Because you are a Diner Junkie.

And you are in good company.