Waitress Eyes Poem by Ray Quesada

I stare into a lonely nighttime puddle
'Don't Worry' tattoo'd on her right wrist;
'Be Happy' on the left
-She puts out a cigarette
in the mushy ashtry outside
and i watch her as she walks back
into the organized chaos

Sometimes her mouth is sad
around the edges;
She's over-worked-
people's rudeness has
made her half life-starved
..But also, half life-charged-
-And it gives her all the more
reason to dream of living in India,
praying under stars

Her small, graceful hands
set glasses on tables
with feline precission and care-
The hands of a hard worker

Feet aching in food-spattered shoes
; A vegetarian serving prime rib to strangers

But...besides the over-worked drowsiness
and sadness in her face
there are hints of insight;
peace; joy; wit; ...and
Wonder in her eyes

She steps into each new moment
as if on a journey
, or a mission...
; A pilgrimage -

She playfully curses her friends,
(and the regular customers)
Flaunts a twenty-dollar tip,
and skips away with a giggle that sounds
much younger than she is -

Some waitresses have Eternity
and Buddha
and Compassion
in their footsteps,
in their eyes, in their hands,
and in their smiles.