{"id":28097,"date":"2016-08-14T07:15:36","date_gmt":"2016-08-14T11:15:36","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=28097"},"modified":"2016-08-14T07:15:36","modified_gmt":"2016-08-14T11:15:36","slug":"prompt-22-at-the-diner","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2016\/08\/prompt-22-at-the-diner\/","title":{"rendered":"Prompt 22: At the Diner"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><em>I know this is terribly prosaic, but 1. I&#8217;m too tired to pursue another angle and 2. I forgot my second point (see: 1).<\/em><\/p>\n<p>Every other weekend my sister and  I stayed with our grandmother,<br \/>\nwho lived at the bottom of sloping Lawndale.<br \/>\nWe took a bus downtown on Saturdays<br \/>\nand downtown meant Kresge&#8217;s.<\/p>\n<p>Though, we would also pop into Macy&#8217;s,<br \/>\nthe department store was our main destination.<br \/>\nThe street-level floor held cosmetics, jewelry and toys.<br \/>\nI don&#8217;t remember the upper floors.<\/p>\n<p>Of course, we had our hamburger lunch<br \/>\ndownstairs, in the Kresge&#8217;s diner,<br \/>\nwhere our grandmother would steer us to one of the red leather booths<br \/>\nto wait for our waitress, an older woman with red hair in a beehive.<\/p>\n<p>My first milkshake was in the Kresge&#8217;s diner.<br \/>\nIf it had been around when I was older and began taking myself downtown,<br \/>\nwould I still be as charmed by the simple fare,<br \/>\nthose high-backed seats and the red-haired waitress?<\/p>\n<p>Probably.<a href=\"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/Kresges.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/Kresges-300x242.jpg\" alt=\"Kresges\" width=\"300\" height=\"242\" class=\"alignleft size-medium wp-image-28209\" srcset=\"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/Kresges-300x242.jpg 300w, https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/Kresges.jpg 736w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 300px) 100vw, 300px\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>I know this is terribly prosaic, but 1. I&#8217;m too tired to pursue another angle and 2. I forgot my second point (see: 1). Every other weekend my sister and I stayed with our grandmother, who lived at the bottom of sloping Lawndale. We took&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":59,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7,1136],"tags":[2053],"class_list":["post-28097","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-marathon-poem","category-official-marathon-prompts","tag-kresges"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/28097","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/59"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=28097"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/28097\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":28242,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/28097\/revisions\/28242"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=28097"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=28097"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=28097"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}