Dmitri’s Waitress (3rd & Catherine Streets)
By Janet Pinkerton
She is not born
But emerges from rock and sea
Fully formed and lightly, erotically tattooed.With dark hair, direct eyes and features of grave, irregular beauty
Warmed by the low restaurant light,
The lines of her face hold you captive as
She seats and then serves you with calm grace and a dancer’s carriage.
Plates of grilled octopus, cioppino, hummus and olives
Balance perfectly on her softly muscled forearms,
Her strong, plainly manicured hands bring endless wine and espresso.
From the bar, you watch her intricate ballet with her sisters:
Cutting pita, gathering orders and silverware,
Joking gently with the Laotian cooks,
All within the space the size of a phone booth.
The crowds may press and clamor, yet
She never sweats, never flusters, and
Never, ever gives ground,
But waits patiently with a serene smile,
Prompting you to leap out of her way among cramped tables.
Eventually, after you have paid your bill
And nibbled the jewel-grapes she has brought you,
She releases you into the night with a slight nod of her head
And one last reserved smile.
And you realize that you, indeed, serve her
Willingly.
All Rights Reserved, Janet Pinkerton, 2006
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