Head Waiter A waiter hurries up, then waits. The customer is always right. Carnivores love more-than-you-can-eat deals. Their table manners grunt greedy sounds. They might even eat me who has no taste. The only tip they leave trickles down from their lips. Maybe I’d like my own pound of flesh, even sitting down with cannibal capitalists to the richest food for thought. But I’ll have to wait on that.
About the Author: Robert S. King lives in Athens, GA, where he serves on the board of FutureCycle Press. His poems have appeared in hundreds of magazines, including Atlanta Review, California Quarterly, Chariton Review, Hollins Critic, Kenyon Review, Main Street Rag, Midwest Quarterly, Negative Capability, Southern Poetry Review, and Spoon River Poetry Review. He has published eight poetry collections, most recently Developing a Photograph of God (Glass Lyre Press, 2014) and Messages from Multiverses (Duck Lake Books, 2020) His personal website is www.robertsking.info.
Image Credit: James Ensor “Gentleman and Waiter” Public domain image courtesy of Artvee
As It Ought To Be 