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’s cruising now – over-sized turbo-lacking under-fuelled, no longer able to soar – trapped in a treacherous game.
Waits tables, tries to keep a clean house, caters to others, lends an ear, has squeezed every drop of self into a low flying life
needs to land a space of her own, with room to breathe; take life in shorter intervals, refill her jets.
(Portrait of a Waitress was originally written in 2016. Image a self portrait. Note: once upon a time, I was a waitress, whom the cooks referred to as “Jumbo Jet”. I waitressed my way through university, and a few rough spots in life. While I gave up the job, the metaphor of ‘waiting’ continued to be a theme in my dreams for many years after.)