Cafe Of Broken Dreams Poem by Joe Howell

She worked in confortable shoes
with thick soles, polished in hearts
of lovers that beg not to be forgoten

At my table I sat with coffee
three day growth of whiskers
a full collection of anger filled words

A skinny kid with acne scared skin
plunging stolen quarters into a
juke box full of yesterday's songs

And the waitress smiled and winked
seeing my nerves lying on the table...
knew her power over me
At the Cafe of Broken Dreams