That time we dropped a heavy load
got a room and ate cold cuts
at Greaser’s Diner down the road
We were in old country rocking
chairs out on wooden walkways
folks picking at ruminations along
the dry river bed where
the wrynecks tired still rise
and tread most mornings
trek up to the cold cafe
for egg toast bitter coffee
a bit of wit to end a conversation
with the two young waitresses
still single and not a wrinkle
in their brows wear bright smiles
and give us room enough to be
ourselves and will to aspire
to grace notes and mnemonics
The Coming of the Toads 