Diner Waitress

diner waitress

on occasion,
bits of her broke free.
they slipped onto
greasy platters
piled high with
thick cured bacon and
fluffy scrambled eggs.
were made palatable
with a gloss of
sweet cream butter
or a slathering
of strawberry jam.
washed down
behind strong
hot coffee slurped
from never empty
cups which sat atop
the cool laminate
counter top
behind which-
she existed.

A while back I was involved in a comment conversation that revolved around the idea that certain classes of people seem only to exist in the setting in which they are familiar to us. I believe this piece to be an off shoot of that conversation.

 

18 thoughts on “Diner Waitress

  1. Ah-ha. Does that not suggest certain people don certain personas when entering certain key environments? In other words, some folks, maybe all folks, wears masks for work. Possible? Only a suggestion.

    Like

  2. What I liked about this Violet was I connected in that I know people in cafes etc who exhibit these same qualities. Well done for taking me there. There used to be a food market I visited a few times over the years and there was a lady who was always there dishing out Indian cuisine. I wondered what sort of life she must have had if day in and day out she was dishing out Lamb korma.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. good observations and I love the structure of your poem. when i take off my white coat and step out for lunch patients who saw me minutes ago don’t return my smile – I was someone they never knew. I was told after I struck up a conversation with one of them!

    Liked by 1 person

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