Frank's

totally engrossed
in the weight of sensation
of behind on seat, feet, plopped on floor
pen in hand, hands on notebook
static with commercial radio ads
sizzle of steak omelet on grill
swoosh of metal cooking utensils
eyes on more than one perception at once
hearing eyes, feeling eyes, visual eyes
trained on Bic flowing across lined paper
at Frank's Falafel House, in dead of pre-dinner rush
I am alone with my thoughts
and with the lonely waitress, who
with big eyes and wrinkles like dimples
waits for my order with me