I order my #7
composed of steak and cheese
and so much grease
that it drips
and gathers
puddles
when I eat it.

I go upstairs
to secure seats
they’ll bring my order up to me
when it comes.

I sit down in a booth
withdraw my arms into my jacket sleeves
submit my head into my cavernous hood
and lay my back to rest against the seat.
School starts too early.

Something about the
dirt and soda staining my puffy jacket,
my unkempt unwashed hair
my squeaky shoes torn through to my ripped socks
something about me looked like
a dirty
homeless
moneyless
hungry
runaway teenager
taking refuge from the rain
trying to catch some sleep
(and maybe a bite to eat).

So two ladies sitting in the table across
ask me if I’m okay
when I resurface from my slumber trance
and glimpse my eyes open
gasping silently for breath.
I assure them I’m okay,
just waiting for a friend
and I return
to the depths
of my soul.

As they gather their trash they ask,
“Are you sure you don’t want us to buy you some food?”
once again I assure them no, thanks,
I have something coming
and they leave
before they can see
my reality:

Trinity School
$20,000 annual tuition
hundreds of years of honored tradition
walking up the stairs
with my hearty three dollar breakfast.