They all run together
And the sign on the door read "this way out", that's all it read
They sat together in the empty diner
Gravy
He was the dishwasher, busy in the back, his hands covered with
Time measured by the peeling of paint on the luncheonette wall
Brilliantine slick, a pot - cleaning dandy
He was young and randy
She was twenty when the diner was a baby
Month to month, year to year
Hair black and wavy
They were old and crusty
Day to day, to day today
Old news was blowing across the filthy floor
Filled with cracked china
His voice was rusty from years as a sergeant on "this man's army"
Then they were old, their lives wasted away
