The Waitress
“All men are pricks” she says
“Are you sure about that?” I say
I look deep into her eyes
and she half smiles.
She holds the stare and so do I.
“Whatever a woman says, she means
the opposite” she says with a giggle
and stubs her cigarette.
She leaves to do a chore
inside the café.
I sip my latte and wait
for her to come back.
I love our little chats!
Copyright © David Byrne | Year Posted 2010
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment