try the crab cakes

a woman with tall
blue hair
blue eyes and a blue
apron
says come this way.
I have a table
for you.
she's tired.
the change in her
pocket jangles as
she walks. hips heavy
and wide,
the menus held
in front of her,
a pen in her hair.
her gait is slow
and deliberate
navigating the sea
of tables like
an old sailor
looking for home,
for a port
to sail to and be
done with this.
enjoy your meal
she says, then waves
to the front,
putting up two
fingers towards
the maître de.
try the crab cakes,
she says and smiles.
they're famous around here.