I'll Have Another Cup

It's 3:37 am on a Thursday morning

In a diner outside of Newark I sit

On my second cup of bland coffee

To help wash down these stale donuts

Like to think the waitress has seen better days

But probably hasn't, probably never will

She was born in that uniform

Most likely will die in it

Three guys in a booth

Greasy hair to go with their greasy faces and greasy food

One picks at his fries, the other looks at his phone

The third wipes mayo off his chin

Delivery guy from the bakery comes in

Leaves his boxes of bread and rolls at counter

Tells the cashier he has to go to the bathroom

She's half asleep as she nods her head

Voices coming from the kitchen

Broken English, mostly Spanish

The universal language coming through

Is the sizzle sound from the grill

Pay my bill and leave 

Muggy morning makes the Jersey swamps smell ripe

Drive over the Pulaski Skyway

Red lights in front of me, white lights coming towards me

I pass my exit

Get off at the next one

Then double back

Or just keep going