[URBAN NOTE] "At the Aching-Heart Diner"

[rfmcdonald]

I've seen David O'Meara's poem "At the Aching-Heart Diner"--taken from his collection The Vicinity--on the streetcars and subways of Toronto for most of this summer, part of the TTC's Poetry on the Way program. This morning, as I took the streetcar, I decided to copy it down and repost it here.

She will flavour her coffee with both cream and sugar,
and tap on the window as she mentions the weather,
tossing off sparks as she pulls off her sweater.
The waiter will come. She'll give her order
bluntly: "A hot chicken sandwich and a tall glass of water."
She'll spatter her fries in grand doses of vinegar
and the point she is making, emphasize with a gesture
her steak knife held high like a gravy-stained scimtar.
And the salt that is scattered when she topples the shaker
She'll toss with a flourish across her left shoulder.
I'd like, I will say, to get to know you better.
I'll look down at my clubhouse, so we don't look at each other
as I pull out the toothpick that holds it together.

The rhythm of the poem, as much as the subtly acute narrative, is what gets me. I'll have to look up The Vicinity.