Customer of the Day


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