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| "Mission Hill at Night" Photo: Angela Counts |
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| "Ornate" Photo: Angela M. Counts |
Ode to walks alone during magic hour
The suns teases and promises to stay,
Makes you wanna linger a while longer on the oranges and the blues.
You don't feel so blue anymore.
And settles into the city dim
Offers its wares, unawares
Its gas lamps that glow with electricity
Cobble stone walks that don't trip but delight
The doors on brownstones that invite but politely say no
The wrought iron gate, ornate, that shames chain link
And is that art there, the small sphere inviting speculation
Ode to the city walk, evening magic
Solo, unafraid
© 2011 Angela M. Counts
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| "Deluxe" Photo: Angela M. Counts |
In his book, The American Diner, diner historian Michael Karl Witzel in striking photos and text documents how the diner as we know it today started out as a lunch cart in the late 1880s. Sometime in the 1970s many diners that were still standing converted or, more aptly, covered their true origins over with brick. As we now know, the diner by large went the way of the Edsel but unlike the Edsel it is still going strong in many pockets of the country, including metropolitan Boston. One of my favorites is Deluxe Town Diner. On any given Saturday or Sunday, you will find yourself standing in line with a pleasant group of folks -- singles, couples, gay, straight, with kids, without -- talking (and shivering in the winter months). Capitalizing on a captive audience the diner now sells a refillable cup of coffee for waiting customers. Everyone waits pleasantly, if not a little quietly, this isn't New York after all, knowing that soon they will have a hot plate of flapjacks or sausage and eggs...soy sausage if you prefer. And how about a tossed, green salad with your eggs instead of those potatoes? I've tried it, it's not so bad.
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| Photo: w:User:Morven (Wikipedia) |
