the butter cake

the waiter is from
Michigan,
he was married once,
has three children.
he tells you their names,
why they are named
after the seasons.
winter, spring and fall.
no summer.
the marriage ended before
that season
could be conceived.
he forgets the silverware
and water.
brings the bread out
cold,
without butter,
and gives your order
to her, not to you,
but he's very nice, very
generous
with his words of how
nice we look tonight
and that we are part of this
family,
this restaurant
family. you can hardly chew
without him
appearing
and asking a question
about what you do, where do
live.
he convinces you to try
the dessert,
his favorite.
raves about it, tells you
that the chef
invented it one night in a dream,
and now here it is.
a butter cake
with icing.
how can you not over tip
a man
so lonely.