Beauty vs. Bedsores
Maurice Oliver

For starters, she opens my ribcage to observe my beating heart before
making her valedictory speech. “I can tell by your throbs youíd never
make a mother,” she concedes, as she momentarily glances at my blue
watchdial that actually glows “minty” once we turn out the lights. “Yeah,
well, Iím sure that if you gave up a little self-belittlement neither of us
would have an occupation,” I reply, convinced passionís shelf-life has
only another ten minutes. And so we continue to try being somebody
and nobody in the same instant because we believe diversity is a good
thing. But if truth be known, itís nearly impossible to truly damask a
waitress without giving credit to at least a few former jokey greats.