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The Waitress

Our waitress appeared at our table But really, we weren’t quite able To settle if she Could instead be a he ‘Cause some people resist such a label. Her build was both muscled and strong And looked like it didn’t belong On a female, but hey, With the lifestyles today Our assumptions might simply be wrong. Her nametag said Jack, but we knew That it wasn’t enough of a clue And her head was part shaved But on top she had saved Just enough so a bun was on view. She was friendly and had a great smile Though I wondered, through lunch, all the while If she realized or cared That when some people stared They were questioning more than her style.

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John Gondolf

Date: 4/29/2018 7:30:00 AM

We live in different times, Ilene.

Robert Johnson

Date: 4/27/2018 6:27:00 PM

Funny how your title only tells half the story. :) But you are so right. Today, fuufff. Who knows, who cares, as long as people are nice it does not matter. :) Hey, you're in NYC, you must see this all the time. eh? :) lol :):):):)

Leo Larry Amadore

Date: 4/26/2018 9:50:00 AM

Your admirable restraint and tolerant acceptance of a server whose physical appearance did not fit societal stereotypes is laudable, and regrettably we still have not reached the point of being comfortable discussing or questioning such matters when curious about them. The smiling and friendly aspect certainly indicates that your encounter was not uncomfortable, and I hope you enjoyed your dinner. As usual, your poem is timely, interesting, and very well constructed.

Agnes Krampe

Date: 4/25/2018 5:15:00 PM

Great storytelling, Ilene; I enjoyed your poem.

Jan Allison

Date: 4/25/2018 4:57:00 PM

Your witty smooth flowing style is so enjoyable and you bring these stories to life with such apparent ease. Another gem flows from your pen... and i am sure you aren't the first person to wonder about "Jack" :-) hugs Jan xx

Ralph Sergi

Date: 4/25/2018 3:54:00 PM

Hi Ilene: Possibly a poem with an experience, my favorite kind. I really enjoyed READING IT!