The Booth
your wooden leather lap
held me
numb as i thought,
my dad will be gone soon
every time i sit in your home
i think about,
i knew -
my dad would pass
So now every time we have a diner craving and head to Bridge-Way, it's a bittersweet experience. I remember having my birthday brunch there. Dad was in the hospital. A few trips later, I remember stopping in for breakfast somewhere between our back and forth between Parlin and Jersey City. We went to Bridge-Way waiting for Dad to die. And we went there after he passed. My body frozen in that booth. My emotions sit outside of myself, next to me in the booth. In that diner some comfort, some familiarity and great sadness accompany my brokenhearted reality of Dad's death.
