Grill marks fade on the flat top steel
Coffee rings stain the laminated menu
Meter clicks in his parked yellow cab
Steam curls slow from his chipped white mug
Wiper blades rest on cracked windshield glass
Radio plays a low static hymn
He watches eggs flip in bacon grease
Night shift hums on a single breath
Last fare sits where the neon dies
Kettle sings its tin lullaby
Two ghosts keeping the dawn at bay
Coffee black as the highway gray
Order pad rests in his calloused palm
Tip jar heavy with copper and silver
Regulars know his route by heart
Third and Main to the hospital ward
Wiper blades rest on cracked windshield glass
Radio plays a low static hymn
He watches eggs flip in bacon grease
Night shift hums on a single breath
Last fare sits where the neon dies
Kettle sings its tin lullaby
Two ghosts keeping the dawn at bay
Coffee black as the highway gray
Rheumatic knee cracks on cold tile floor
Pocket watch ticks in his wool vest pocket
Twenty years on the graveyard run
Twenty more 'fore the pension comes
Last fare sits where the neon dies
Kettle sings its tin lullaby
Two ghosts keeping the dawn at bay
Coffee black as the highway gray
Fry cook slides a plate of hash browns
Extra crisp the way the driver likes
No words needed between old friends
Steam writes names on the fogged up glass
Last fare sits where the neon dies
Kettle sings its tin lullaby
Two ghosts keeping the dawn at bay
Coffee black as the highway gray
Sunrise paints the chrome bumper gold
Engine turns on the third rough cough
He leaves two quarters on the Formica
Kettle whistles the closing song
Last fare sits where the neon dies
Kettle sings its tin lullaby
Two ghosts keeping the dawn at bay
Coffee black as the highway gray
Last fare rides where the morning breaks
Kettle cools on the turned off flame
Two ghosts living the night they made
Coffee black as the highway gray
Kettle screams on the back burner
Vinyl stool holds the morning light