The Waffle House.

September 14, Longmont, Colorado.

We stopped to get food before driving onto the lot last night. Sitting in the truck on the side of the road, the Waffle House beaming yellowish lights in a pool of darkness, the lights a feeling of loneliness, the people at the counter, a blond waitress, made me think of Edward Hopper (gone corporate.)
It also brought me back to Athens, Georgia, in the early nineties, sleepless nights at the Waffle House after a concert in town, Kris and Melissa and Matt, teaching French at the University of Georgia, fresh out of junior year at my French university majoring in English, catapulted in Athens at the height of the R.E.M. craze, the rock scene exploding, days without tomorrows, riding in the van with John and Dominic going to see a movie, jumping over potholes seating on the metal floor in the back, laughing out loud, days of insouciance, late nights at the Waffle House.

Stopping to eat (just not there.)