Sunday Poem: “Wait Staff”

 

My friend
who works as a server
at a banquet hall
tells me
about their training.

We are expected to work
in the background, she says,
allow patrons
to focus on their business.

We respond politely
to requests, questions,
but do not encourage
further discussions.

Friendly
but not familiar.

Patrons are not here for us.

Downtown Toronto
I look for a place
for lunch.

Across the street, Hooters.

 

(Editor’s note: poet Shai Ben-Shalom, an Israeli-born biologist, examines current events in the Blacklock’s tradition each and every Sunday)

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