dark of this empty
restaurant,
ready to close, i squint
at the bill
trying to figure out
what tip
to leave.
what percent is right
for this fine
meal and service.
the waitress is
at the end
of the aisle,
tapping her nails
against the bar.
she wants to leave.
there's a world beyond this
place that's waiting
for her.
i round up
and leave her a fat tip.
i remember
how that life used to be.
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