Hot days filled
up by overflowing
hot cups; Coffee or just the waitress
setting down my check, like so;
Smiling. I sip the foam coming
over the brim
and I fill in the empty space,
inking her tip,
scribbling my signature.
I push the pen back
for her to use again.
She takes it; Caps it. She smiles,
tucking the old ball-point back tight
into a front pants pocket.
“Is there anything else I can
get you,”
she asks.
“You just did,” I reply.
She smiles. She turns.
She walks off and
she stands behind
a grand marble counter
until the next customer
strolls in.
I sit and I watch her fill
those hot cups
until distracted,
I spill; Thankful
for summer jobs— where
these young girls come—
and I do too,
just to gain a little experience
before moving on
in the world.

written on 08/08/2011 by: Matt Kane