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Douglas Tanoury Russell Street Cafe The stark brick interior walls Softened with bright artwork, City scenes of busy corners, Yellow theater marquees And neon signs, the blues Broadcast from ceiling speakers. A waiter with three fine gold hoops In his right ear takes our order. I have coffee, a side of potatoes And sour dough rye toast with butter. She has tea and despite my urging, Nothing more. I tell her: "This is The best bohemian breakfast spot." A waitress, pretty and demure, Wearing a short but tasteful dress With black hose, Her hair tied back in a tail, Brings my food, and Asking rather softly, Delivers a perfectly Alliterative line: " Sir, a side of spuds?" Want to respond to this poem? Do it here! Return to Detroit Poems |
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