The Hostess Stand Stanzas

That smiling face… whether you deign to speak at it or not, there’s a thousand razor-sharp barbs behind those little teeth. Those dull little eyes hold a vocabulary that would surprise.

Oh, shit, she’s capable of more than a, “Table for two?”

Her mind wanders as your eyes rove- oh she’s got an opinion of you.

________________

It’s a lot of people standing in line-

taking turns taking your life away until you die

Just so they can out and dine.

________________

The man in suit smiles, but only briefly.

He is seat  #7. Nothing else.

Salmon tie, did he chew on smelts

Before cracking into laughter.

I think I know him.

________________

The Bartender.

likes the Femmes.

The Violent Ones.

________________

Oh, God, come down and shoot me,

kill me, take me, break me,

open up my brain and scramble up these little cerebral bits,

Seize me into a thousand epileptic fits,

While I stand here, nothing at all to anyone,

Take all your fucking bullets and put them into me,

While somewhere overhead plays the place I should be.

________________

On Coworkers.

The redhead with magnet brains.

The man from 1971.

They make a pair.

And then the one

who’s a full fucking house.

________________

Table 11 is sooooo unimpressed.

Soooooo unentertained.

I could watch them all night.

Listen to them- I’m a bit of furniture at the door so I can-

They’re exactly what they look and sound like they are, all right.

________________

I quite possibly lead the least interesting life of anyone I’ve ever met.

At least…

that’s what I’ve been told.

________________

His face is flushed.

Now

Quite jolly, they become.

But no amount of booze

makes an asshole a better tipper.

________________

Smile and wave bye-bye

No matter how they treat you.

________________

Thank God sometimes they’re easy to look at.

Passive entertainment.

Like the covers of magazines.

The Church plays on.

Oh wait, shit.

That’s Morrissey.

________________

I’m not lonely or incompetent.

I’m bored and fucking tired.

________________

Oh. My. God…

I’ve never seen so much fucking flannel in my goddamned life.

________________

The shitty band upstairs

it’s drowning out the Bowie playing down here.

That’s OK.

Bowie always wins, in the end.

________________

Final 20 WTF

My legs are killing me.

I’m scrubbing menus.

Literally to pass the time.

I think they’re already clean.

Missed a spot.

________________

guest taps rotate.

we’ll tear the weekly menus out.

Hipsters rotate flannel patterns

One thing will never change.

No one will ever give a single FUCK FUCK FUCK

what the mousy little girl up front in writing in her crooked little book.

That’s the only power I have.

This night, it’s exactly as long as it feels.

________________

Help.

 

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