Page 29 - November 2020

29
Litterateur
November 2020

In Pink Neon

Bill Cushing

Bill Cushing lived in several states, the Virgin Islands, and
Puerto Rico before moving to California. As an
undergraduate, he was referred to as the “blue collar”
writer based on his previous years working at shipyards
after he served in the Navy. Bill has been published
internationally in journals, sites, and anthologies.

This is the first poem written by the author

Chrome and black tile at breakfast again;
coffee’s so strong it pulls your eyelids back
going down, and while last evening’s drunks,
with five a.m. shadows, use it

to try to face the new day,
women, legs on spiked heels, lift leather skirts
to reveal specialties of the house—
initiating a physical negotiation,
trading the tangible
for currency.

In closed cuffed hand, scalene triangle
of whole wheat drips from sunnyside-up.
A single waitress covers ground.
Butter, warmed by sun shining through slatted glass,
slowly rolls down a stack of browned pancakes;
silverware clatters, china
against china; napkin falls;
voices chatter—while outside, in pink neon,
a sign glows: "Best Food in Town."
And it is.