by J R Lemiech

On a stormy February eve,
She was serving a Pu Pu
He'd taken a liking to hers.

Those damn Snowmen
They all melted out of her life,
Leaving wet dirty puddles inside her
And on the sheets.

Money always fell from their dirty pockets
Dirty words from their desperation
She collected her dues from the tables
To save for a rainy day.

She did not own rose colored glasses.
Only green, the color of envy.
Envious of those who did not have to
Serve dirty old men, cheap wives
And spoiled kids with toys she never had

She wanted Chop Suey, American style
Where the white picket fence didn't mean
Being on your feet.
Better than on your knees, she supposed.

Positive thinking
She needed coffee breaks, coffee talk.
Talked to her coffee, not about it.
Sun, sunny, Sunday
Snow angels, snow leopards, snow queens...

"Miss, could we please have the check?
Miss, by the way, the fried rice was terrible.
Tell the damn cook."

She snapped back.
"Yes, sir...sorry sir."

What a wanton wench, she seemed.
She grumbled and squeaked.
She walked to the counter,
Tallied the bill,
Dropped it on the table.
Looked straight into his beady eyes.
Ignorant man.

"Miss, your nose is bleeding."
"Sir, your heart is bleeding."

As the radio sang
"Beneath the bitter the spring becomes the Rose.
Saki and sin became her.
Hell, who needed a man anyway.

J. R. Lemiech is a Virgo. She started working at 13 years old. She worked at numerous restaurants to pay her bills. She escaped to NYC to attend college and stayed there. Her favorite writers are Bukowski, Kosinski, and Mrs. Parker. Her poetry has won first place at the Womenís Visions Exhibition at Columbia University

Copyright 1999 Moxie Magazine All Rights Reserved