The Waiter

By iJ

I walked over to your table palms sweating, heart pacing
Pulled out pen & paper, hands trembling
“May I take your order,” I said stumbling
You said to me, “Can I have a real man?”

You said you didn’t see it on the menu
But, lately, you’ve been craving one
Had boys before, but it’s time to grow up
Ate the appetizer, but now you want the entree

Been to four different restaurants, but none of them had one
I couldn’t be the next in a long line to disappoint you
So, I took your order, down to the T, and ran to the chef
But just like the previous four, he was no help

I took the apron from him and went to work
I’ve never worked this hard for a customer before
This wasn’t about my tip, but satisfying you
“A Real Man” couldn’t be that hard to make right?

1 cup of intelligence, had that
1/2 cup of compassion, threw that in
1/4 cup of understanding, too easy
1 tblspn. of confidence, moving along

But I couldn’t find the missing ingredient, honor
It’s the one ingredient that separates boys from men
I scoured the kitchen, turned cabinets, and utensils
But to no avail, there was no honor to find

So, I walked back to your table
The imperfect dish in hand, defeated
“Sorry Miss. I did my best, but I couldn’t make it how you like.”
I put the plate in front of you

Then, you took a bite and said, “perfect.”
I looked confused and in shock
How could it be perfect with no honor?
You smiled and said, “That’s one thing it doesn’t lack.

The other places brought a dish to me too.
But, they pretended it was something it wasn’t.
They thought I wouldn’t notice, but a women always does.
Boys leave a bad after-taste, men are much smoother.”

 

 

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