her day will come

they mix a mean mai tai
at the hunan
west.
four chairs at the bar
while you wait for a carryout
order
for combination fried rice,
one wonton soup,
and two egg rolls,
brown rice.
I sip on the cold drink,
mostly ice,
mostly rum, some cut
fruit
and an little umbrella
that almost takes out
my eye every time.
I sip slowly examining my
life. I look deeply into the thick
mirror five feet across,
the bottles aligned just
right.
a tv is on, the place is empty.
the blonde girl at the counter
is bored, looking at her phone.
playing with her hair,
she's young. she wants out of
here soon. she has places to be,
friends are waiting, maybe a boy.
she knows nothing
yet. nothing about love and death
and the grind, but her day,
her day,
in time will come.