There was no need to duck your head
when we saw you waiting tables
at the local shrimp grill,
your wages so meager
they might feed birds.
Just tell the driver, I’ll pay next time
and take a seat on the bus with us.
We also remember lustrous dark hair.
The beauty school will dye it for free on Tuesday.
Trish Saunders lives in Seattle, formerly Honolulu, formerly Snohomish, a small town on a big river in Washington state. Her poems are published or forthcoming in Right Hand Pointing, Off The Coast, The Rye Whiskey Review, Medusa’s Kitchen, Open Arts, and the late, lamented Fat Damsel Press.
No comments:
Post a Comment