The doorbell clinks when I enter.
Dolores is the only one
Here, still wiping down the counter
After fifty years.
“Black coffee 2 sugars Joe?”
Have I ever changed?
Her hair is still permed in strawberry curls
Which now and then droop in front of her hazel eyes.
Her nametag is so warn that only Ores is readable
So I joke and call her doll.
The coffee is still hot here
The eggs are still soggy and the toast always burnt.
The juke box in the corner still plays alright,
I slide silver into the slot and hear the grinding, clicking, and whirring.
I play a song I’ve heard probably a thousand times before.
As I walk out the door I look back
She is good for still waiting on me
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