She was like, like itself






You saw those eyes



and wanted to have them around



it is for all seasons,

our liking to sustain a crush,

isn't it / don't we?

so he became quite attracted to

daily transactions with his server at the café

she had had an Uncle like me.

now were avuncular a profession

I'm known as a Distinguished Practitioner

of the art, for she was an exhibit

of the muse wearing mascara and tattoo

serving coffee and toasting bagels



One day he brought in a photo book he made

of Passaquan, a place like her in its defiance

there should be anything but beauty

and said I want you to look at this

wow she said

and back to serving

but something had been established

later there would be discussions of promising junk

they found, and revered,

a light fixture in particular





...so it was a very nice thing that December, to discover Alma now operated the counter at the cafe. I knew there was something odd about this, for to sight that too good to be true is as rare as the counter is common and I did not believe it could for long contain her - volume. My intimated dread was based on the certainty of conflict arising from a crazed customer dis-service oriented cafe manager justifiably liked by none; evil stepmother all but stenciled on her forehead, I reckoned I'd be lucky if Alma lasted a month, about how long it took before her expanding, captivated and satisfied customer base was disabused of its good dream at the cafe; like having a privileged view of a passing comet, I vowed to enjoy each cup she served.

It certified my step and each encounter put some wind in my sail, brightened my morning, this first hand evidence that such people existed - her indelibility.

During that time it amused me to stand in a line that seemed to vie, as if it were an audition, both men and women, to gift our prized server more special and better than the last - auditioning customer - I saw her receive earrings, pins, cards - and grinned later to think perhaps it was this shower of trinkets that made her flee, and it was the story of her life where cafe work was concerned...




My Servers Eyes

just colonize all of me instantly

my Server is moving right along

she's got other things going on

still she always says my name

thanks darlin come back again


One Afternoon when it was slow

I made a little move

as she polished the display case chrome

to a soft face reflecting glow

and her once black now near sheer T

made eye earring contact

an inevitability

How her wrist

lives to flip the throttle

now she holds

the bunnies all a swaddle

she knows when

I look like a double

My Server is why

all boys rock songs about girls

My Server plays drums

on all girl rock songs about fun

and I knew from the start

each cup from my Server

at the cafe

was lucky and numbered







Hey Alma Mae

could you cream my cup of coffee

to the color of a brown paper sack

I'm sorry to say its To Go

but I'll be back tomorrow

Alma you know that