A young woman

works at a fast food joint.
One of the old brands,
struggling to stay relevant.
It’s not hip.
It’s not cool.

A woman who looks like
she could be her grandmother,
who looks like a grandmother
wearing an unflattering fast-food uniform,
is her manager.

The young woman
wears a similar uniform,
but she is different.
She is blessed with features
that could grace a magazine cover.
A smile that is perfect,
and eyes that match.

She is friendly.
As if she knows me.
But she doesn’t know me.
Not at all.
No,
you can’t have a soft drink,
she teases.

If I weren’t old and wise,
I would think she flirts.
But she doesn’t.
It’s just her way.

I won’t charge you
for the drink, she says.
I’m confused.
Is she teasing?
Charge me, I say.
She laughs.
She says,
I owe you a penny,
as she hands me my change.

If I weren’t old and wise,
I would think she flirts.
But she doesn’t.
It’s just her way.

A child approaches.
The young woman smiles
her priceless smile.
Would you like to work here?
she asks the child.
You could make lots of money,
she says.
The child says, yes,
I think I would.
The child is smiling.
We could hold you by
your feet and you
could clean all of the
tiny spaces.
The child thinks.
Maybe not,
she says.
They both laugh.

The child and her grandfather leave.
They wave.
See you next time,
the young woman says.

She brings my food.
Again she smiles.
Have a good day.

I’m old and wise.
She doesn’t flirt.
It’s just her way.

copyright 2016, joseph e bird