She approaches his table,
wearing an immaculate white apron
over a fitted black dress

Bends over,
setting the plate down,
her lips, within reach of his ear,

Softly whispers, “Enjoy!”

Turns back, apron tied
smartly in a virtuous bow
against proud hips

He bites into the multi-grain bread,
savoring the gift
she left behind.

“Enjoy!” hangs in the air

The scent of her breath still hovers over
the plate, he lifts the glass of cool water,
takes a sip, and is done.

She returns with a pen protruding
from her pocket, removes his plate,
and leaves the table bare.

“Will there be anything else?”

Looking deep into
subservient eyes,
it is his turn to whisper,

“Just the check, please.”

— © Abraham Menashe