Long Waitress Poems
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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.
Ah~ a pleasurable job I thought!
Loved serving people and making them happy.
For I knew as a customer, what it was like to have service that was
truly crappy.
I relished customers smiles when their water glasses, I filled!
And their satisfied grins, when coffee cups were kept refreshed.
Don't ask me why, but it gave me a thrill!
I have worked in pancake houses, Japanese Yakitori places, donut shops,
a Howard Johnson's and two Italian ones, too.
Quite honestly, in retrospect, I was happier in restaurants than any, structured, educational zoo.
The best part I saved for last!
Coming home, taking off my shoes, so very exhausted but with
bulging pockets holding huge amounts of cash.
Then counting all the change and the bills! You see, I honestly felt like a
millionaire.
Indeed, each night was a thrill. I felt I was the Queen of the Hill!
September 15, 2019
12:15 am
My cousin Anettejay uses at least one huge vocabulary word when we meet for breakfast. I think she is trying to impress me, and impress me she does.
“I think that was apprehensible,” she said to me today as we ate our pancakes.
Anettejay was referring to a mass murderer’s mode of operandi. “Don’t you?”
“Not necessarily,” I answered.
She looked horrified. “You do not think it was apprehensible?” she demanded.
“Not in my world,” I told her.
Knowing I would die before I gave up the word, reprehensible, I picked up my coffee cup and took a big swig.
Anettejay has another weird habit. She does not let something go until she thinks you have agreed with her; it is all about the win. She became distressed, and quite loud now. People were staring at us. The waitress came over and gave her two warnings to quiet down.
“Can you believe they are going to execute me out?” she asked me.
No, frankly, I could not, and I could not stop smiling either.
The world needs a whole lot more love and laughter
Spread it around every chance you get
Whether it's a waitress in a restaurant
Or the cashier at the local supermarket
Or a helpful teller in your local bank
We must always try to brighten their day with humour
Or some friendly chitchat and a happy face
It really doesn't take much
Just a smile and utter a cheery, “How's your day?”
The reaction will be worth the small effort
In return, it will make YOUR day better too!
If more people would do this instead of grumbling
And complaining about this and that
Guess it's human nature, but rise above it
We're only on this earth for a very short while
So live, love, laugh and be happy...
It's contagious!
© Jack Ellison 2014
All around the fortified town all the systems were down, and a heavyset man took all the money and left the town in a hurry. I couldn’t understand why but he chartered a helicopter and took off to the skies and the last time I heard of him he was seen working out at the gym.
Why was he in such a hurry, I still cannot contemplate this mystery, he was here again in a jiffy, doing population census and riding on the bus.
He went drinking at the bar, and was gallivanting in the mall, with lots of shopping bags and a picturesque, tucked underneath his arm.
Heaven knows what that he was stirring up a storm. And when the day was done, he was seen with two pretty girls held close by his side dressed in tight jeans going into a night club.
The cops kept a close eye on him and they watched you watching me watching him, at midnight he came out of the club stumbling in the street and shouting above the sky about the love of his life.
The women weren’t with him; they were singing a different hymn, they went off with another man to the pool to take a swim. The waitress brought out drinks and food and placed it on a decorated table positioned at the side of the pool. It was a perfect scene for lovers locked into a dream and the furry of the night saw tension raging in the sky.
I had a funny feelings that something peculiar was about to happen and so I kept denying this terrible feeling and search for deeper meaning.
They began dining with hugs and smile as if they had known him for many years but the privacy was suddenly interrupted by a man shooting in the air. The women escaped through a tunnel that joined club and a neighboring wall and just as they made to the other side the drunken man started a brawl.
He shot the man and he fell into the pool and I watched the bleeding man suffering from gunshot wounds floating.l
He went through the back door to start up a fire storm but two bouncer’s wrestle him to the ground and slit his throat, then hurry to rescue the bleeding man floating in the pool.
I watched from a distance as the women crawled out of the tunnel and the spectacle of light shine into their faces as they made that narrow escape.
On the path of time, shadows dance long on the wall of consciousness,
Conversations with myself, echoes of times past,
I feel it is right to preserve them, to gather them in the hourglass of the soul,
On the porch of the final days, I will open these notes and say, "Seriously?"
Perhaps I will laugh with a sweet melancholy, or maybe I will cry in streams,
Letting tears flow over all that was, all that I once felt.
At a moment in my life, I was someone where greetings
Were not just greetings, and the woman who lived years in prostitution
Was not just a woman; she was the center of a universe,
A story in herself, an epicenter of being.
The smile of a waitress was never just a smile;
It inspired flying poems, like butterflies on lonely roads,
Which were never truly empty, full of ants, flies,
Houses that sheltered souls. Routines sculpted an entire life,
Even the banality we avoid was part of the life story.
"Yes, it really happened," I will say. Time blurs life,
You become a stranger to who you were, to the people you knew,
To the life you lived. Soon, you become a stranger to the world.
One day, they will remember your deeds, point to a house and say,
"He once lived here." Your story will circulate, your life will become a fairy tale,
Half truth, half lie. And the story will go like this:
Once, the man was a boy—what an ambiguous rift that will be!
The man was always a man. Fabulous lies they will paint,
To draw the crowds, slowly, they will make the stranger
You were to become a stranger even to your own existence.
And look, the sun hits the wrong side of your face,
The porch is still the porch and the notes are still within reach.
Oh, this is not just a tale; it really happened.
I was someone.
An old women bent over her shopping cart,
she is a solitary recluse, cut off from the world;
there is no one at home waiting,
her existence full of tattered memories.
An old man goes for a coffee each day,
always by himself, forlorn, sad, withdrawn;
the only person he talks to is the waitress,
her smile is his only joy;
Loneliness is the emptiness of many souls,
having chosen to live a life secluded;
they walk this world in shadows of the past,
living within their heartbreaks and sorrows.
Loneliness is an old person dying alone,
it was not always this way,
oh, so many dreams sadly, just distant memories,
then a faint sigh- and they let go.
___________________________
September 18, 2016
Poetry/Verse/"Faces of Loneliness"
Copyright Protected, ID 16-830-863-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, 100 In A Row - 15
sponsor, Poet Destroyer
Eighth Place
Winter storm Blizzard, dangerous
White out conditions. An unassuming man
From Puerto Rico was driving in it, when
He and hundreds of others were forced to
Exit the interstate.
He was glad, as he had spent three hours
Driving a mere thirty-eight miles
“And when I was almost
Here three reindeer
Crossed the road In front of me,”
He Informed the TV man
“Deer,” the commentator responded.
The man did not understand.
“Yes, reindeer,” he said, Nodding his head.
Four notorious good ‘ole sit-around Charlies
At Joe’s coffee shop could not
Stop laughing as they watched
The telecast.
“Shh! He is on the other side of your
Divider,” their waitress told them.
They could not let up. It was too good.
“Santa,” one whispered
Rudolph,” another said.
The men in the flannel shirts could stop laughing,
As soon as the laughter resided, someone would
Throw out another idea and the booth would shake.
Sometimes they pounded the table.
They were wiping their eyes,
By the time their food came.
Unmercifully making fun of this outsider
Having no idea he was a world-renown
University professor who
Was recording their every word on the
Opposite side of that tiny plastic divider.
He made double his salary that year,
During a little sabbatical,
Promoting his book entitled
“The Blatant Rudeness of
Americans.” He was on Ellen too.
I invited my oldest daughter to dinner for her half birthday.
It was highly embarrassing when she wrestled me to
The ground for the check, and I landed in some guy’s lap.
Sorry, I said. “This is my daughter.”
She glared at me.
“Why did you do that?” she asked me.
“Why did you bite my hand?” I asked back. “I have not had a tetanus shot.”
“You had one last February, remember?”
I suddenly remembered who FORCED me in to get one, because she did
not (prissy voice now) “Want her mother to get lock jaw.”
I had screamed and wailed and begged and sniffled and sobbed.
It did me no good. I got the shot that hurt less than my wailing and sobbing had.
“And could I please have my credit card back now?” I asked Miss Aggressive.
The waitress turned and looked when I said that, so I stuck out my tongue.
I had told her up front I would be paying, after all.
“Do you want to go shopping?” my daughter asked.
“I can’t,” I replied. “You have my credit card.”
So we looked at the dessert menu, but everything
was costly, and we both knew we would end up on the
floor again, maybe in sumo diapers, and we were too full
to wrestle without guaranteed bouts of flatulence the next time.
So we went to her house and watched six TV shows she wanted
me to “see” in about forty-two minutes.
Oh, my, you ask, how does anyone watch six TV shows in less than
an hour?
Easy when your daughter has the remote, and fast forwards through all
the parts she already saw that were “too boring to see” which means you
get to see some of the beginning, maybe a minute in the middle,
and if you are very lucky, the ending. Another enjoyable evening
with an assertive-borderline-aggressive-beyond-belief daughter
who obviously takes after her daddy’s side of the family.
I took her gift back, and went home.
It might be her birthday, but she did not deserve a gift,
due to blatant arrogance and having to be in charge of me.
No one else EVER tries to be in charge of me!
I dread the bleak dark end-of days when I end up at her mercy,
days in the future, when I cannot see out, or walk or talk, and she is my jailer.
Maybe she will deserve this birthday gift next year but I doubt it.
I have brought this birthday gift over six years in a row, and as
you can see, the less-aggressive one still has it.
The world needs a whole lot more love and laughter
Spread it around every chance you get
Whether it's a waitress in a restaurant
Or the cashier at the local supermarket
Or a helpful teller in your local bank
Must always try to brighten their day with humour
Or some friendly chitchat and a happy face
It really doesn't take much
Just a smile and utter a cheery, “How's your day?”
The reaction will be worth the small effort
In return, it will make YOUR day better as well!
If more people would do this instead of grumbling
And complaining about this and that
Guess it's human nature, but rise above it
We're only on this earth for a very short while
So live, love, laugh and be happy...
It's contagious!