boniface

she craves the safety of the light
thought here it's just a little too bright
like summer hangover mornings
a mouse symphony plays naugahyde etudes
as she shifts in the booth
to wrap her hands in coffee mug mittens
while a cold rain pounds the windows
louder than the malevolent lover she left
and she hides in the corner behind
formica and cynicism
like the boniface of an all-night diner
in a Tom Waits song
surveying the cast of hackneyed strangers
anonymous but familiar
as she sips coffee and courage
and waits for the dawn