Third Shift Lovers

A little after 4 a.m.,
the waitress stands on tiptoes,
hugs her cook and kisses
the teardrop tattooed
on his stubbled cheek.

He scrambles eggs
and does not smile,
but his arm circles her waist
and that is enough
I suppose.

Grease and cigarette smoke
carry these two
into every sunrise
together.

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