A Poem: When I was a waiter
IPFS
Everything is confirmed
Predictable and orderly
As if in the hands of
A young dictator
Until midnight
There won’t be any more customer
Couples have finished dinner
Phone browsing
No talking
as if too full to be close
As a waiter
I have no opinions
Or judgments
I have only smiles and thoughts
Calling out order numbers
accepting card or cash
(2025.02.22)
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