Behind the counter
The clock started ticking at 2pm
All geared up, a blue polo shirt and a cap and a name tag, with a fixed smile to boot
the Hi and Hello, passed as swiftly as they came
gotta keep busy no time to chat
Amidst the burgers and fries, whether straight or curly
time is of the essence
three hours- 10 minute break
A relief from the hellish frenzy of the hungry
two hours- 30 minute break
Dinner time
Then….
The white man with a mustash came in
Ordered sweetly, offering a smile to the battered spirit
Receiving the change of papers and coins
hiding a couple bills he asked for more
holding a piece of parchment, the proof of payment
Transforming, the man was really a tiger, looking for the weakest among the herd
With one satisfied grin, the tiger talked with the manager
The smell of fear gave it strength and amusement
Tears threatened to fall
"Sorry sir, it won’t happen again"
A refuge within co-workers was sought
Their skin were all colored but their hearts were clear
Sympathy… that’s all they can offer and a promise it’ll be better tomorrow
Out after 9pm… time slowed, and the bus along with it
The bed was a welcome sanctuary, along with schoolwork scattered under the bedsheet
And so the clock started ticking at 2pm…
June 25th, 2006 at 2:52 am
the “exiciting” world of food service must be getting to you. i must say, you do have a way with words, it’s the first time i’ve read you write english poetry… i still find myself blushing.