Coffee steam curls through my creases
Trucker's laugh shakes the sugar dispenser
Waitress wipes the counter in circles
Night shift hums its low familiar rhythm
I'm the guardian of booth four
Paper wings and patient duty
Ketchup stains and napkin maps
Morning comes on greasy wheels
Rain writes Morse code on the window
Pie crust crumbs rest on my fuselage
Clock ticks slow as a freight train
Fluorescent buzz keeps perfect time
Regulars know my station by heart
Leave me be when they slide in sideways
Tip their cups toward my nose cone
Whisper thanks to folded cellulose
I'm the guardian of booth four
Paper wings and patient duty
Ketchup stains and napkin maps
Morning comes on greasy wheels
Wings don't flap but they hold the line
Creases deep from careful fingers
Child slept sound, the plane stayed behind
Dawn arrives on diesel fumes
Sunrise paints the chrome napkin holder
Shift change brings fresh coffee perfume
My folds relax, the watch ends quiet
Another night logged in the margins
I'm the guardian of booth four
Paper wings and patient duty
Ketchup stains and napkin maps
Morning comes on greasy wheels
Wings at rest on vinyl cushion
Day shift takes the early fare
