Closed

My feet hurt. I must have walked
a long way tonight, I think-
Though just now, I can’t seem to remember.

I’m hungry, but come too late
to this shuttered, overgrown diner-
They must have last shut down the grill,
hung the faded, curling Closed sign
years ago.

This place seems familiar, if only
in the way that ruins, remains,
half-remembered dream’s edges
always do- Still, I wonder
if I ate here once:
Maybe coffee, a piece of pie
before the interstate came through
and the old roads were forgotten,
last of the rambler’s rests closed down.
I can’t seem to remember, just now.
I wonder if I’ve been sleepwalking,
just awakened.


© Mark Reep 2006