Took the wife
to a pancake house
the other day.
National franchise
good food
fine reputation.
Skipped the pancakes
had bacon, eggs,
hash browns, toast
and coffee.
Wife went fancy,
had an omelette.
Grabbed the check
because the busboy
started clearing
the table early.
A young dervish
new to the job
swirling his cloth
for minimum wage.
Bothered me
to realize he'd work
three hours and a skosh
to pay for the same
breakfast, more
if he left a tip.
Reminded me
something's wrong
with our great nation,
how we do business.
Have both ears open.
Hoping for an answer.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The humble rich are dying out. A living wage is hard to come by. His early ness may have been his over eagerness to please you or his supervisor.. iip