Poem of the Week-The Bland Server

At the Pasadena CPK

the abrupt waiter half smiled

as he took our orders

in the breezy outdoor setting

The furnace heat

of the afternoon

had burnt itself out.

The waiter’s brown hair

Swept across his forehead

Barely touching his silky skin.

His 1/4-smile was disconcerting

Including a voice lacking in melody.

The efficiency was cold.

When the pizza arrived with goat cheese

 Which had not been asked for,

Janet said, “I hope he isn’t going to charge for it.”

Of course, he did but he responded,

“Oh. I’ll take care of it,”

With a mouth that drooped.

Since returning to eating out

My favorite aspect

Has been flirting and joking

With the waiter or waitress.

But with this gentleman

It would have gone over his head.

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