The Sandwich Artist

The Sandwich Artist

A guy makes eye contact
with her, comes into the store
and opens his mouth. Words
come, but none make sense.
Then the same questions get asked,
“Are you here alone tonight?”
She rolls her eyes.
“What do you recommend?”
Like she cares what sandwich
they order. One by one
she gets them through
the line, and suddenly
she makes eye contact again.

A guy and his friend walk
in. They ask her about the special
and she fakes
her smile
the best
she can. This one wants
cookies. That one gets
chips and a drink.
They leave.

Still more come. She barely
has time to rest,
and still the store needs
to be cleaned.
Her slender figure,
hazel eyes
and long brown hair
keeps pulling them back.
She knows the job is temporary
so she puts the fake
smile
on and asks what type
of bread the next
one wants.


This is a poem I've posted in other places before, and I'm posting it here because I think it's pretty funny. I wrote it while Beth was at work at Subway her freshman year and I was keeping her company before close.