Breakfast at the Bowl

I ordered two eggs basted, two strips bacon,
whole wheat toast, coffee no cream, no potatoes.
Sounds good if you like plain like me

but on their bottoms the eggs had burn rings,
black burn rings all around, dark circles.
The bacon. The bacon was like old suitcase straps,
almost stiff and twisted, tough and chewy,
not really holding anything together on the plate.

Then the toast—damp with margarine—
and the coffee, flavored, flavored like flowers,
not strong at all—

Listening to a kid next to me yelling about
his juice cup, I hear his ma saying
there were straws
on the counter, next to the pepper and salt.

Those shakers, knurled like grenades.
My son, I phoned a photo of the dirty plate.