Waitress

She was new in this coffee place
in the
city centre.

She walked out
10 minutes ago.

I like the place, because there are not many Germans
here.
Many Arabs, Turks, Italians.
They' re all relaxed and seem to lack that
cruel desire for perfection
that surrounds Germans.
Them foreigners might be perfect in everything as well,
but it' s simply
not a big deal
to them.

And because of the
free WLAN.
Most of the cafes in the city
stopped that.
People worked too much and didn' t drink
enough.
You make more money, if groups of people
come in and chat and drink.

I like work.
I don' t like talking to others.
I´m not them.

This waitress
caught my attention.
She was too perfect for the place.
She seemed young, educated, a student maybe.
She looked great with her blond
ponytail,
full white blouse,
severe blue eyes.

What' s she doing here?
I thought.
She should be teaching or
working at the trade fair
or something
where more money is to be made
with looks and brains.

All of a sudden she interrupted me
eating my
sandwich
asked if she could bring me the bill.
Something happened at home, she had to go.
I was polite.
Said, I hoped it was' t anything dramatic.

She smiled as if caught lying and didn' t answer.

I gave her the regular 10% tip.

Then she hurried. I saw her outside in a
beige coat
running through the rain
towards
the traffic lights
at the crossroads.

She looked like she' ll never return
to this place.

Whereas I still sit here
and write
this.