JVD

Why does the disgruntled woman
making breakfast this morning
at the diner speak so disparagingly
of her little boy, waiting so promptly
on me, bringing my sausages and eggs
so proudly, pouring so carefully
my cup of coffee?

                             “School’s closed
today, can’t leave the kid home,
got to have him under foot!”

When her back is turned
I leave him a big tip. He says
nothing, takes it to the grill
touching her on the arm—an
apology, a good report card, a gift.