Thoughts of a Restaurant Host

“Hello, how many?”

The same impersonal greeting for everyone.

They sit,


“Have a nice day,”

No one is unique,

Except in terms of my hidden feelings towards them:



Christ, I wish money grew on trees,

I’d like to just sit,



Write things down,


My thoughts are worth more than this minimum wage,

This miserable wage.

So I sit,

I read,

I think,

I write things down,

Interruption is imminent though.

“Hello, how many?”

“Right this way, a server will be right with you.”



Complete indifference,

You’d never know.

$7.25 an hour, at the least, buys a hollow smile.

Todays best new poem was written by Garrett Weaver.


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One thought on “Thoughts of a Restaurant Host

  1. Well done! I enjoyed this internal reflection and conflict with the external reality.

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