alive but dying

they took down the sign for alzu's

that family restaurant

at the corner of blanshard and bay

it was always lit up before

the windows would move

alive at all hours

just barely but alive still

in the dead nights

the last meal i had there

was a plate of chili fries

at 3am on a wednesday

a grey hair got caught

on my fork when i tried to take

my first bite

as i pulled

the hair unraveled

it pulled

apart the food

like a thread from a sweater

by the end

the fries were crumbled on the plate

the hair more than a foot long

hanging

dead from my fork

i could see the cook in the dish window

hair halfway down his skinny back

and i thought

if i send my food back

that fucker will spit in it

i sent my food back

the waitress spoke at the cook

and the cook shrugged

breathed

then got to work making

everything

over again

and for a few seconds i couldn't

see him through the window

my plate came back

the fucker had spat in my fries

i got up to leave but stopped

at the door to look at the cook

and the cook looked up and saw

me and stopped working

he stared back

he was sweaty

pale

the ghost of

a thousand fights lost

i nodded to him

he smiled a bit

lifted his hand to wave

back

the fucker didn't have a clue

but what he did know

was that the end would

come

soon

enough

it always does

so why should

he care