Written by Poetry, Writing

Napkins

Diner Table

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Her face is crumpled like the napkin I use to cover my food. Equal doses anorexia and diner coffee make me frenetic. I giggle, and my brain boils over. The kettle shrieks. The steam whistle blows.

My train is coming off the rails.

Can’t you see I’m trying to avoid the people tied to the track?