Chips & Salsa Poem by Randy Briggs

sometimes, when the
bus drops me off
(it has no knowledge
where I go)
I step into this
crippled restaurant
to buy a burger
and receive free
chips & peppers
(though I lie, I
come because of
her)
takes my order,
small talk,
genuine smile,
like she's the
only living being
who acknowledges.
some nights, like tonite,
it's plain,
but the burger is
pleasing, the lettuce,
tomato, meat, bread, sauce,
peppers, onions, all make
it worth something.
and the flashing lights
roll by and I leave
(I don't like to stay
in one place too long)
I never did get
my chips.