My feet are sore!

My feet are sore, heavy black shoes weigh my feet to the ground. 8 hrs waiting tables, “may I offer you a wine?” polish glass, pop a bottle or fifty. Sweat, my hair had looked nice. A visit by an admiration. Such brief time spent, but he did manage to bring a smile to my face. Rain, wet tables and a wet shirt. People linger. One drink takes an hour to finish. Tool! Cleaning and then clean some more. No knock offs tonight just a bad taste in my mouth. Thank god for taxis. Hello bed.

People confuse me sometimes…
An Australian thanksgiving

Author: Chad St James

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