Week 5 - Realism
Back Home Again
The brisk, bitter cold stings my face as I escape the thick gasoline heavy garage
I trot over to his car and cram myself into the seat, my feet drowning in the assorted garbage
My hand peeks through the holes of my gloves as my fingers clasp onto his
He gives my hand a squeeze and reverses the car
The car groans in protest as it struggles over the icy driveway into the unplowed street
My breath fogs out in front of me as I tell him about my morning
The white salty stretch of road guiding us to our destination
We stumble into a fading parking spot in front of the old diner
I tighten my damp and itchy scarf as he zips up his coat a little bit more
Bracing ourselves for the wind, we burst open the doors
The cold assaults our cheeks and faces as we trudge against it
The icy shards of wind cutting through our clothes to our skin
Finally we reach the doors and fling them open
Immediately the warmth of the indoors washes over us like a blanket fresh out of the dryer
We greet the hostess with newfound cheer, and we're led blissfully to our table
As we peel off our coats we begin to catch up
I'm so happy to be home!
I really really missed you.
Any stories that you missed?
Our voices bounce back and forth as our fingers regain their warmth
My body relaxes as we settle back into our old conversation
The restaurant bustles quietly with conversation all around us
Old women recounting the latest scandals in the booths
Teenagers goofing around with friends at the tables
Everyone blissfully unaware of the people around them
I take a sip of scalding coffee as he tells me a story about his friends
I feel contented once again hearing his voice
I revel in the warm glow of the restaurant and its escape from the blustery chill
And the familiar stale taste of the coffee in my mug
We finally get our food brought to us on massive heavy plates
My omelette nearly twice the size of me
His pancakes nearly twice the size of him
We fall silent as we begin our task of trying to eat even a portion of what we ordered
I slice at the hash browns
He cuts into the stack
I dig deep into my eggs and take my first bite as he chooses which syrup fits best
We're quiet for several minutes as we fill ourselves up
With each passing moment I remember that I don't like omelettes as much as I thought
I watch as he continues devouring his pancakes with intense focus
Soon I slow down, each bite seeming more repulsive to me than the last
He pushes the plate away, a thin layer of syrup on his plate is all that remains of the massacre
I lay stoic against the cushion of the booth, stuffed with the product of my mediocre menu choice
We smile at each other with groggy grins, ready to make our way back to his home
I gently motion for the check and a large box
Soon enough we're wrapping back up in our layers in preparation for the tundra
Got your sweater? Yeah.
Coat? Got it here.
Gloves? Yup.
Remember your purse! Oh, right, thanks.
Robert, your wallet. Shoot, sorry.
Ugh, okay, let's go.
We weave our way through the stuffy and crowded rows of tables and booths to the front door
I quickly grab a mint from the hostess table and he kisses me on the cheek
Together we take a deep breath and push open the doors
Immediately the air screams at us as we plummet into the daylight
His hands dive into his pockets as I bury my face into my scarf
The uncomfortable weight of my brunch presses against me as I trudge my way to his car
His ears glow bright red against the beaming light of the snow
We make it to his car once more and dive into its sheltering safety
Full, happy, and reunited, he starts the engine and we drive off onto to the white and salty streets
The brisk, bitter cold stings my face as I escape the thick gasoline heavy garage
I trot over to his car and cram myself into the seat, my feet drowning in the assorted garbage
My hand peeks through the holes of my gloves as my fingers clasp onto his
He gives my hand a squeeze and reverses the car
The car groans in protest as it struggles over the icy driveway into the unplowed street
My breath fogs out in front of me as I tell him about my morning
The white salty stretch of road guiding us to our destination
We stumble into a fading parking spot in front of the old diner
I tighten my damp and itchy scarf as he zips up his coat a little bit more
Bracing ourselves for the wind, we burst open the doors
The cold assaults our cheeks and faces as we trudge against it
The icy shards of wind cutting through our clothes to our skin
Finally we reach the doors and fling them open
Immediately the warmth of the indoors washes over us like a blanket fresh out of the dryer
We greet the hostess with newfound cheer, and we're led blissfully to our table
As we peel off our coats we begin to catch up
I'm so happy to be home!
I really really missed you.
Any stories that you missed?
Our voices bounce back and forth as our fingers regain their warmth
My body relaxes as we settle back into our old conversation
The restaurant bustles quietly with conversation all around us
Old women recounting the latest scandals in the booths
Teenagers goofing around with friends at the tables
Everyone blissfully unaware of the people around them
I take a sip of scalding coffee as he tells me a story about his friends
I feel contented once again hearing his voice
I revel in the warm glow of the restaurant and its escape from the blustery chill
And the familiar stale taste of the coffee in my mug
We finally get our food brought to us on massive heavy plates
My omelette nearly twice the size of me
His pancakes nearly twice the size of him
We fall silent as we begin our task of trying to eat even a portion of what we ordered
I slice at the hash browns
He cuts into the stack
I dig deep into my eggs and take my first bite as he chooses which syrup fits best
We're quiet for several minutes as we fill ourselves up
With each passing moment I remember that I don't like omelettes as much as I thought
I watch as he continues devouring his pancakes with intense focus
Soon I slow down, each bite seeming more repulsive to me than the last
He pushes the plate away, a thin layer of syrup on his plate is all that remains of the massacre
I lay stoic against the cushion of the booth, stuffed with the product of my mediocre menu choice
We smile at each other with groggy grins, ready to make our way back to his home
I gently motion for the check and a large box
Soon enough we're wrapping back up in our layers in preparation for the tundra
Got your sweater? Yeah.
Coat? Got it here.
Gloves? Yup.
Remember your purse! Oh, right, thanks.
Robert, your wallet. Shoot, sorry.
Ugh, okay, let's go.
We weave our way through the stuffy and crowded rows of tables and booths to the front door
I quickly grab a mint from the hostess table and he kisses me on the cheek
Together we take a deep breath and push open the doors
Immediately the air screams at us as we plummet into the daylight
His hands dive into his pockets as I bury my face into my scarf
The uncomfortable weight of my brunch presses against me as I trudge my way to his car
His ears glow bright red against the beaming light of the snow
We make it to his car once more and dive into its sheltering safety
Full, happy, and reunited, he starts the engine and we drive off onto to the white and salty streets
Your poem is extremely beautiful and well written. The imagery you used is very clear which lets the readers really see where you are and whats happening. I also appreciate the consistent timeline and story the poem takes you through. The organization is also extremely fitting.
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