The Old Owner
The old owner of the restaurant
backs his way through the double doors
of the kitchen carrying a large gray tub.
Hot stuff coming through, he announces
in a loud voice then wrestles the contents
into the empty ice cooler.
Why do you say hot stuff? I asked.
Because nobody gets out of the way for cold stuff!
2 thoughts on "The Old Owner"
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haha
Love how you use dialogue to energize the poem.
Nice
what poetry is
“capturing the moment”