Gnashing Hash at the Sauganash

blue of dali

round booth-ing

the round blue

dali around

a meeting in blue


lost notebook

blue rings round

lady face

round dali

edge of town

eggs running and running and running and running and running and running

edge of town

edge blue edge of town

the phone is ringing now

it's for you, eggs,

a very merry easter egg

was eaten by my very eager mouth

just now

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reflective print and fake flowers on the wall at Western Ave. and Fullerton Ave.

Fullerton and Western

dear brother, dear mate,

green polyester pant-suit trimmed with baby-blue rhinestones Carpenters' record albums on the musty shag carpet at someone's wheelchair-bound uncle's house and eggs and eggs and messy butter and the swift and sorrowful ticking of a bank-giveaway alarm clock and brushing hair with your friend's older sister in a bedroom with a pastel bedspread and a long drive along Fullerton Ave. with spring in the air that collects at your sleeve's edge, when you hang your arm out the window, to point at the diner where you get burnt coffee and cheapo hash and nice pluckable eggs.

lorine, an eggs-istentialist.

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Another thing:

Who is this child? Why was she found in a box at Open 24 Hours?

Take a letter, Maria

This is for Cafe del Mundo!

Esto, esto, esto.

La cancion de los pajaros de huevos.

I think it's important, also . . .

. . . to explain the music/art/poems that go with each diner.

Above is the picture that goes with Alexander's; it is what I see when I eat a feta/spinach omelette and look across the table at Gus and Max. (Please look carefully for the heads.)