Poem: The Waiter’s Eye
If you figure this one out, let me know your take on it.
The Waiter’s Eye
All this stuff made sense somehow
the muse in me to muse, if anyone
Not fast food, but an evening out,
Which fork is salad, which is meat
But the waiter’s eye is hard for me to catch
This poem is included in
THE SMELL OF TWEED
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