the waitress

my waitress, with
the starched pink
uniform, pouring
coffee and showing
more cleavage than
anyone wants to
see, asks me what's
up, why aren't you
eating, just toast,
no eggs, no bacon.
come on bud, have
an omelette. let
me have the kitchen
make you some french
toast, on me, she
gives me a wink.
no really i tell
i her. i'm not
hungry. it's a girl,
isn't it, she
says, and smiles,
the hot coffee
pot still in her
hand. hell, honey,
as cute as you are
you won't have any
problems finding
a new one. there's
another bus coming
down the street
every ten minutes.
pfffft. just go
stand out on the
corner for awhile,
you'll see. now what
can i get you, girls
don't like no
skinny boys. okay,
i tell her. scramble
me up some eggs,
sausage, more toast,
and some home fries.
there we go, she laughs.
coming right up, then
she wiggles away
in her tight dress
while looking over
her shoulder at me.