Fat Jacks Poem by Sidi Mahtrow

Sitting in a booth at Fat Jacks
The morning crowd of regulars
Were there and a few strangers
That happened upon the place.
In the booth next to the door
Was a woman and two small boys,
Maybe five and seven, not much more
Having breakfast or maybe lunch
As the occasion permitted.
It was mid-morning,
When their order arrived
As the cook intended.

A big order which was
The specialty of the house
Three eggs, a slice of ham,
Two links of sausage
And three big slices of bacon,
As well as a bowl of grits with butter,
Plus three slices of white bread toast.
Who could ask for more.

I wondered what the boys
Would have to match
From the endless food
That the kitchen dispatched.
Then I noticed that she
And they each had water
To drink and nothing more.
What was on the table
They would share.

On the small plates on
Which the bacon and bread arrived,
She carefully divided the eggs
And bacon between the boys
And sat and watched them eat.
Each boy ate a single egg
And a slice of bacon, crispy fried.
Then when the first had finished,
He passed his small plate
Back to be replenished.

One of the sausages,
And a cut of the ham
Plus a slice of toast
And a spoonful of grits
Became his next treat
Which was soon wolfed down.

Now the mother
(I assume too much)
Ate the egg that had remained untouched
As well as the piece of ham that remained.

Disciplined as the boys were
They could not be still
And I wondered what was
To be the war of wills
As now, all that remained
On the table was
Slices of toast and the bowl
Of grits mostly untouched.

The older boy carefully
Took up his knife
And added several pats of butter
To the bowl next to his mother.

She tasted it and must have approved
For she offered it to the one
Who had been unmoved.
Carefully did the boy
Take up a piece of toast
And dipped it into the grits
With their buttery gloss
And eating carefully
So none was spared,
He finished off the toast and the grits
That none wished to be shared.

The meal seemed to be over
Except for one thing,
The jelly that comes in small packets
That the waitress brings.
Opening up one,
The smaller boy took a single taste
By sliding his tongue
Across the gelly face.
Approving of what he found,
He took up his spoon
And soon it was all down.

The older boy as probably
He had done many times before,
Put the remaining packets in his pocket
And searched for more.
But none were to be found.

Soon after, the mother went to
Pay for food they shared.

If you have an ear,
You can hear the bell
On the old register
Behind the counter
As the drawer is opened.
But no sound was heard.
Only a thank you,
No other word.

They left as silently
As they came
And once again Fat Jacks,
Lived up to it's name.

'Nobody Leaves Hungry'