Waitress Poem #4

You cut through the room
To present yourself,
A scissor of motion -
Served with won ton, hot tea
And fried rice. Paper-thin
disturbed, I swerve through small talk
Then watch as you curve away
And skirt the clutter of tables.
Each visit brings a gift until
You bring the check,

And I come to the last
point where I can
Keep you near.