ON THE MARGINS

ON THE MARGINS

I stop in the Off Road Restaurant
Seven hours leaving Miami
To sober up from sampling the product.

I order black coffee in a mug
Like the truckers whose big rigs
Are parked in front. I have today’s special
On the menu steak and eggs.

The hefty waitress is all smiles
Pouring extra coffee
Asking questions I make up answers to.

A woman is breast feeding
Towel covering new infant’s head,
Her husband consumed in his breakfast.

I wish for a normal existence
Where jail doesn’t look over my shoulder
For society pushed me to the margins.

Two highway police officers
Sit at the counter,
I nail my greeting like a gymnast.

I merge the u-haul into traffic
Under a low mantled sun
Whispering the fear of skullduggery.

Arnal Kennedy