(Copyright Kristen Grainger 2025)

Saturday night at the Still Life Cafe
Closing time lowers its dome
Regulars toss back their cafe au lait
While the hostess is quietly checking her phone
That’s when I clock in, my shift will begin
When the sign flips from open to closed
Eleven to four every counter and floor
Six nights a week, so it goes

Chorus

I should be grateful I know I am grateful I am
for all that you give me
will you forgive at the end of the day
if I’m too tired and sad to say
God bless America

Most of us here at the still life cafe
Learned to smile to cover the pain
The hostess escaped from the Taliban
The cook is from Senegal me from Ukraine
The busboys are brothers from Guadalajara.
Ricardo, Luis and Jose
Bonded by grief, oh the guilt, the relief
We collide at the still life café

Chorus

I should be grateful I know I am grateful I am
for all that you give me
will you forgive at the end of the day
if I’m too tired and sad to say
God bless America

Bridge

There’s a room at the top of the stairs
Far away from these tables and chairs
And the clatter of dishes
And unfulfilled wishes
Just me and my tea and my prayers
In the room at the top of the stairs

Chorus