The vacationing women remind me of the working ones,
Only the vacationing ones have more important things to say,
Clothes freshly laundered, huddled together, communicating,
About summer and winter here at the very beginning of the work day.
Am I working? Should I be doing a chore?
Why don’t people watch documentaries on poets anymore?
These young women always on their feet know work is art, and they
Hope to take a vacation soon
When mother visits at the end of the month, mirthful still, under the waning moon.
Those out of work envy the employed,
Only they forget how all at once, even the annoyed
Are like those on vacation, who hope
You will keep your eyes to yourself. Who hope and hope and hope.
The youngest waitress did her best. And now she’s in tears.
Suddenly the men enter, comparing beers.