The sun hasn’t come up yet. Nor is there moonlight aglow. Cops drinking coffee at the diner. Round waitress in tight jeans serves them with a smile.

Morning Jen, men folk say as they come in from the cold. Coffee and the usual, they all say, ranging anywhere from a bear claw to biscuits and gravey. One fellow orders eggs over easy with bacon. No toast, no potatoes. Diabetes hit him hard. Made him change his tune. They no longer call him Tiny.

Jen makes rounds with coffee, asking each table if they need a refill. Words like, darling, sweetheart, and dear are tossed around. Men stare at her ass as she walks away. Took every bit of energy she had to get those Levi’s on this morning. These were her lucky pair. Christmas is coming and she needs to make dough. Got a new grandson. Her daughter just quit high school.

And the cops leave two dollars each. Grab one to go. A York peppermint patty is purchased. Says he likes the way it mixes with the black coffee. His partner laughs at him. Tells him to just suck on a candy stick. Lasts longer. Then he calls him a fag and they walk out the door.

You’re always talking in homosexual terms, the cop says. You ever wonder bout yourself? Mr. Macho shakes his head. Serious, you might want to delve into that with a professional, the partner grins.

Jen waves goodbye and another man walks in. Coffee dear? she asks. Need a menu? He smiles and says he’ll just have the usual.