-what's to do in '72? / an exposé in pre-cellular time-

to begin, walk inside. 

choose a stool at the counter, and sit on it.

make the necessary physical adjustments.

within a minute say “Yes” to coffee.

pull the menu from the little nickel-plated rack where the paper

napkin dispenser also resides. pull a napkin from the heavy dispenser.

use two hands and even then it won't be easy.

(of course it will tear. don't worry, it's an institutional flaw now commonly

accepted as inevitable) open the menu.

choose your breakfast from among the 20 available entries.

tell the waitress who, like you, writes things down, then slip the riven,

acetate-covered menu back into its slot.

the coffee's delivered in a thick, utilitarian mug.
create its personality with the specialties of cream and sugar.
take the first sip cautiously, followed quickly by a more assertive second sip.

fidget with the spoon lying in repose upon the thin paper napkin;

"Geneviéve Odalisque" in stainless steel.
(this is how one considered things within the restless, empty latitudes

of pre-cellular space and time)

readjust yourself on the wobbling stool and feel free to take another sip.–– 

look around. there's nothing more to see. don't linger. relax. what seems

an eternity only seems that way.

avoid tapping your fingertips upon the counter, more likely than not in a

nonsensical beat.

consider those who might be trying to call.

consider them stagnating inside the twine of wires dipping gracefully

between their poles.

inside the diner the naked exposure of self is palpable.

swivel your stool, swivel your head, presume to a fault

who might be calling..

and with your plate of breakfast slipped in front of you, eat.