Portrait of a Waitress

Jumbo Jet
they called her,
fast on her feet
zooming in,
swooping up trays,
delivering with flight
attendant flair.

When did she turn
to autopilot,
stop paying attention
to her destination?

Didn’t she know
she was set
on a crash course;
headed for disaster?

Tried to warn her,
wake her from stupor;
told me she’d reset,
but danger remains.

She is cruising now
over-sized,
turbo-lacking,
under-fueled
no longer able
to soar – trapped
in a treacherous game.

Waits tables,
tries to keep
the house clean,
caters to others
lends an ear,
has squeezed every drop
of self into her
low flying life

needs to land
a space of her own
with room to breathe
take life in shorter
intervals, refill
her jets.

 

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