Customer of the Day

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    I worked tables last night.
    Streams of customers
    came in waves
    through the door.
    Cook turned ogre,
    Dropped french fries
    on the floor
    And snapped at me when
    she burned her fingers.
    She also burned table 5’s
    steak and shrimp.
    Mr. Table 5 looked at me
    accusingly
    And sent it back.
    The ladies at table 2 said
    they’d like to know
    Where their soups and
    salads were.
    I said, “So would I.”
    They didn’t laugh
    Three boisterous boys
    snickered when I passed
    Till my legs became stilts
    clumping by.
    Then my dad dropped in.
    His stomach just fit
    between table and chair.
    He winked, called me Miss,
    And ordered caviar, though
    we don’t sell that here.
    “That’s okay,” he said. “Just
    give me a smile.”
    Then he ordered a number 2.
    My feet began to rock and
    roll around the room
    Just like in the movies.
    When Dad was done he
    sat back with a toothpick
    in his mouth
    And motioned to me over
    faceless heads.
    He let me eat his pie,
    Kissed me good-bye,
    And left me
    A twenty dollar tip.

    [photo] Photography by Steve Bunderson