Once seated, we peruse the same
Old menu by and by—
Which dish (or special from the board)
Would we most like to try?
A waitress, new to us, shows up
With water and “Hello”—
We order wine; she asks, “What else?”
We say, “We’ll let you know.”
She finds the bottle, which she serves
As nothing much is said—
We take the chance before she leaves
To make a bid for bread.
She brings us some and butter, too,
Plus oil, if we so choose—
We have to ask for napkins and
Utensils we can use.
In time she does return to take
More orders, if we please—
A half an hour later she
Delivers them with ease.
Thereafter glasses go unfilled
Since she cannot be found—
Plates scraped, we wait and wait until
She brings the check around.
A credit card is then produced
And taken hurriedly—
The slip soon signed and left behind
Notes due gratuity.
Jane Blanchard lives and writes in Georgia (USA). Her work has recently appeared in Allegro, Delta Poetry Review, Light, Mezzo Cammin, and Vita Brevis. Her fourth collection with Kelsay Books is In or Out of Season (2020).