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The 80’s were Chardonnay
I’ll have a Chardonnay, he said,
She’ll have the same.
We served it slightly chilled
From a cruvinet, all brass
And shiney. Wearing black pants,
White shirts and ties, we poured gold,
A days wages, sometimes two,
As they’d sip at lonely tables
In dark corners. We came and went
As quietly as ghosts, taking orders,
Delivering food, changing linens
And crystal. We placed forks to the left,
Knives and spoons to the right,
Folded napkins like tents,
And at the end of the day we clocked out,
With cardboard timecards, then walked
Emptied, dark parking lots to our cars,
Under slightly chilled, star spattered skies,
Lingering nights filled with elusive dreams,
Pockets bulging with a few dirty fives
And a whole bunch of ones.

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