School cafeterias 
Strike a weird balance: 
Constantly modernizing, but 
Never changing. 

Whether I was there as a kid, 
With my kids, 
Or now, with my grandkids, 
There is a predictable experience. 

People doing their best with 
What they have to work with 
For a marginally grateful 
Or better described as 

Oblivious audience 

Pharmaceutical companies 
Will talk about "front of store", 
But there was a time when most of them 
Had a "side of store" food operation. 
I can't say I ate there a lot, 
But everyone ate there at least a little. 

Food and soda counters were types of community, 
Small and intimate, 
With regular customers at regular times; 
And for that reason, 
An often famous place 
For social protests. 
They were a microrepresentation 
Of society as a whole. 

For that same reason, 
They came to be seen as anachronisms  
And have largely faded away 
With a few kept around as 
Historical curiosities peopled by 
My vanishing generation. 

Few places these days are 
Built on the same principle of 
Closely shared space that 
A drug store counter was; 
Which makes it harder to know 
Where we should stage our protests

 We think of food as 'breakfast' 
 Through custom or convention; 
 It isn't an intrinsic thing, 
 But mere human invention 
 
 That labels this or that as being 
 Meant for times of day, 
 Instead of ever questioning 
"Why should it be this way?"

Insomnia and Waffle House 
Are close cousins: 
Both are absolutely consistent, 
Questionably healthy, 
And frequently to be found 
Where I live. 

The food pictured is more like 
My wife would get, as I 
Would never order eggs 
Under any circumstances. 
But she would also get grits. 

I would frequently eat at 
Waffle House in my twenties, 
And even thought about taking 
An additional job there, given 
That I would go weeks at that age 
And rarely sleep. 

Fortunately, I got medical help 
For mania rather than 
Filled out more job applications. 
Not that there is anything wrong 
With working there; 
I am grateful that people did and do. 


But it is strange how 
Our loves and our problems live 
So intertwined: 
I loved Waffle House, but 
Much of that love came from 
A rather health-ruinous 
Medical condition. 

But our lives are all prepared on 
One grill, 
And everything ends up 
Mixed together.

you told me once or twice i think 
the ocean makes you restive, 
while those around you seem at peace, 
or even rather festive 

and though i may be wrong on this, 
it seems your very soul 
is troubled something quite so large 
is out of your 

control

They say that we’re too siloed, 
And that would seem more true 
If each of us had grain enough 
In what we have to do. 

But many times it can’t be seen 
By those who view outside 
The emptiness behind the chrome 
That we use domes 

To hide