nighthawks

By Tobey Kaplan

four people in the window corner diner

woman examines a piece of paper in her hand
while a young guy washes dishes
the man she knows smokes a cigarette barely touches her fingers
his right her left
he might want her to meet his mother
he wants to kiss her

the soda jerk tidying up is telling jokes
everything closed     the light and air ash

golden glare from the window

one other man wears a darker fedora his back to us
she's looking at the paper in her hand
a green tab scribble indicating how much is owed for coffee
a ticket to the movie down the street torn in half after she entered

the check for the meal paid for by that man
who is afraid to look at her     he might be
her estranged lover     her mystery father     a respected former teacher
     who recognized her gifts

or what's on that paper is
the cure for cancer or its unmentionable diagnosis

a misplaced laundry ticket a receipt for luggage long gone

a fortune cookie she found in her pocket telling her that luck comes
to those who have an open heart while everything's closed

on that paper she's staring at
you can find bits and pieces
everything you need to know about

this poem I'm writing