a poem by James Babbs

A Bigger Tip

sitting at one of the tables
near the window and
the waitress keeps coming over
asking me
if everything's okay
each time she speaks
I see the way
she flashes me her smile
her dirty blonde hair
pulled back in a ponytail and
earlier
I watched her
standing near the kitchen door
straightening the front of her uniform
maybe
she's interested in
getting to know me better and
before I leave
I should ask her for her number
but I don't really believe it
she's probably just working on
getting a bigger tip and
who can blame her
when she comes back again and
I tell her
I'd like another glass of tea
it makes me laugh
softly to myself
as she picks up my glass and
I lean back just enough
so I can watch her walk away

© by James Babbs
 
Gutter Eloquence Magazine ~ Issue #20 ~ March 2012