Dizzy’s and the Shoe Shine

The next morning we hike Park Slpe,
the neighborhood of our hotel,
to find a shoe repair shop to shine shoes.
We detour to Dizzy’s diner for a half-hour wait.
Dizzy’s is filled with regular Brooklyn folk–
Moms who have parked their babies’ buggies outside on the walk,
a lawyer and her client finishing up the last few changes to a contract.
The look like a couple at matching height and weight.
They wear their clothes like they are just thrown on.
When the woman straightens his outerwear,
he adjusts it back to “fly away.”
Three young women–and when did I get so old
to have to say that about 20-somethings–
in shorts and sandals and high fashion blouses
situate themselves around the take-out pass through.
They laugh about bacon and wine for breakfast.
One waiter serves twenty tables inside and out
though two helpers bus and refill waters.
This is a place you come to talk
and eating is an aside, not the focal point.
Slow service is a source of joy,
since an hour’s wait is one more span of uninterrupted sweet conversing.
After a gargantuan granola,
we pop back over to pick up the wedding taps.
Gorgeous completely new brown wing tips
are $10 from Joe, since the owner never came back.