Love That Waitress

Love That Waitress

Juicy Fruit snaps in her jaws
as she zig zags
through tables like a New York
taxi in rush hour. She's a vision
serving coffee chemistry 101,
cool as a pool shark
on a hot streak.
I love everything
about Dee-Dee—
her petite misnomer,
Amazon bosom pulsating
in egg yolk yellow,
that pile of Revlon Rhubarb Red
hair, her perky little apron
printed in cardinals and bluebirds,
the way she segued from country
into punk when she heard of that
fallow frontier.
I love how she sidles
over to my booth,
sees me eyeballing her
melons, snaps that Juicy
Fruit and says, "Not on the menu,
mister. You gonna order
something,
or what?"