In a Saturn Cafe Far Away

Two night shift workers,
Harried and grizzled,
Churned away cleaning
Dismal booths, deep fryers
And dank corner’s funk.

The waitress cued up the juke,
Her choice tunes blasted out.
The baker moaned in complaint.
“Do you have to play this crap every night?”

The waitress came back,
“My boy, it ain’t crap,
Just you wait and see how
One distant day, you’ll hear this song play,
Your memories will stray back to now.”

The baker moaned, “pshaw,”
Bent his elbow to scrub,
Worked his way through,
Music tuned out of his mind.

Many years later
That once former baker
While shuffling through music
Chanced upon the same song.

“Damn you. You’re right!”
That once former baker
Shouted with respite and spite,
Then listened to it all day long.
SaturnCafe

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