She holds the menu in both hands
Her hair is as tight as her stomach
Vultures swarm the neighboring tables
A sign of what is to come at her own
These men, they sit at desks
All day and this is their reward-
A white tablecloth and chardonnay
A lavish tip they’re sure to announce
She cheats. She looks at his menu
And then at his.
Order something cheaper
Don’t talk
Don’t finish the glass
You’ll be fine.
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