She sits and sips her coffee
Until it begins to drip drip drip
Drop, her paper falls flat on her table
startling the reader.
She looks around the room.
She strikes a match
And lights her cigarette.
Holding it like Louise Brooks.
She tilts her glasses forward
And answers the unasked question
“Yes, there’s seven of those little fuckers and Mr. White doesn’t exist”
She tells the busboy her name is Snow.
But in reality that’s only a title.
A fairytale creature; a diner in Virginia.
She is present partially
Expected from a woman without her seven counterparts.
She requests another coffee straight
Means another cigarette for a fiend.
Pity that Disney had already created a Beauty.