Beer for the Waiter

Rummaged, sleep greased hair

Wrinkled work shirt, still exhausted from last shift

Clutching a rolled, worn apron

Still puking up orders

Collapse into the seat

Let the ride lull

Deeper and deeper into disoriented dreams

Where skate shoes are for skateboards

And not skating over spilled entrees

Rolling along the urban tracks, a street lullaby

Jerking stop and can flies

Sweet amber waves crash

The aroma of hops now lingers

Crushed can resembles crushed hopes,

Caved in from the core

Leaking out leftover love

Then slip back to booze bliss

Completely unaware

That the kitchen just passed.