The Diner
Kendra Walker
“Party for one please”
The waitress with gelled curls
Sat me in one of the magenta and teal booths
Outside a naked man was lit up by neon lights.
Walking up to the window
He pressed his body against the glass.
He wouldn’t make eye contact
A green-pear glazed over stare
Focused on the restroom door.
I couldn’t look away from his unusually small
Areolas, a strange foundation for protruding nipples.
The key for the bathroom was attached to a knife han
with no blade, weird.
I nodded to the man, a signal
I would let him in
He introduced himself
Dr. Officer
“this is my dissection lab, welcome”
He plucked the mirror off the wall
Revealing a tunnel lined with aluminum
I shimmied in, the reflections of the foil
Like glitter spilled across the highway.
I felt a jumper cable jolt up my sternum
A spotlight hit me like an anxiety attack
On a karaoke stage.
My stomach had that tingling sensation
You get free falling on fair rides.
I’ve always craved a monarch ribcage.
Oh an alien beam—I’ve never seen one of these befo
This would be fun
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