tuesday night. not thursday.

thursdays

drinking coffee on a thursday evening
and wondering when you will show up
at this diner i sit waiting in the 50's style booth
with a jukebox and mini tv watching jerry and his guests
your late! no, you were late an hour ago
by now you are way past not coming
my fries are getting cold and my heart is right along with them
growing staler and staler each minute i think about
how you left me here to wonder where the fuck you might be
it was on purpose, that i know
because you've done this twice before
and i gaze at that little screen feeling more and more insane
because those hicks on the show seem more happy sleeping with their mother
than i am being with you
why is it that everyone elses life seems so much more made up
like it's so easy for them to get through a day
when really they think the same about your life
envying every word out of your mouth and every step that you take
ripping up napkins i've accumulated a pile now
each one ripped with my intense feeling of betray
this diner booth is oh so lonely
and all i want is for you to be sitting across from me
drinking your hot coffee and reminiscing your day to me
this thursday evening has drawn into a night
and i leave a few quarters to cover the bill
to walk home alone in the dark musty air
of another thursday gone by full of mascara stained tears