I ask for a cup of hot tea,
black with a twist of lemon.
Apparently, it’s snobbish
to want it brewed instead
of a spoonful of rushed.
To the waitress I’m just another customer
the highway dropped between
eggs over easy and a stack of pancakes.
With a tired eyeroll she places
a teabag floating in hot water
on the table and grumbles,
“Will there be anything else?”
I left the rest of my argument
on the tip of my tongue and drank
the bitter taste of the middle of nowhere.
There’s a Chevy truck outside the window
waiting to take me away.
She’s a double shift into survival.
©Susie Clevenger 2020