Women of Service,My HeartBelongs To You
Service With AnInfatuation
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easily mitigating trauma

With apparent appalling actions behind, all apostles' shadows fall hopeless across the millenia when confronted by the fall. Winged angels wring black and red targeted from impacts horizontal and lateral, the fallen's fingers pulling up father's eyes and tongue. Speaking in, rolling, roiled, hot and glycerin not withstanding, flat folded trolley type, she, then, active in help in service, in reflective arbor hues striped and ocean depth of health cling-wrapped. Not flattering, not needed, just needed. Every blemish a reason, remembered in times past, and hair weaves waves and eyes dart to match the suit, to hover and wait, alight upon this corner in strange seconds while or before rembering the unpleasant and pleasantly unnecessary task at hand. Roll out, roll on, flip all your switches in the beacon to beckon, but I am already there. Flattened, unexpected.

viva cccp

every penny dropped into a have-a/leave-a from all continents and counters could not equal the worth - no tip too high - nay, naw, no way, no no. sum aggregate of the have-a/leave-as leaves disparity, if from formal blue news plastic or improvisational paper cups of underpaid custard-twirlers, 'tween the weight of cash value and beauty. mountainous mountain of potential pennies weighs crushing and scales scaled, scaled.

tattoo runs interference low and visible, guards and blues crack jokes and compliments, laughs she with them also together - word chatty out of familiarity, sure, hours past doubled-armed attention and oh cutey, oh security, oh necessity. the joviality is the reason for the position, looks too, but all the others across the span across (remember? from before - the first sentence?) could not equal the one copper sliver of the comparison of worth for her, for her.

checkout is suspected of being slightly suspect, yet circumspects conclusions. a finishing detail carves coda better, unbelievable, fantastic - "it'd be better if she pronounced it the russian way," said.

da - in internal agreement becoming fact - da.


called honey, and not a name proper probably but a properly proper name for her.

her smile a sashay of twinkling overtones in icey days. off in side stationed the fingernails pull her attention. they match her eyeshadow.

but it's funny, isn't it, when it's all indeterminate? her tone shifts as often as my eyes.

it's every classic feature, and while the service isn't lacking, the face doesn't mask much. bored in the resting area. missing the new entries. but always asking about more, even while losing her place on the pad.

slow nights, boring days. waiting for the shift to end as soon as it begins.

the glitter bespeaks glamor. even while the eyes motion you out with a smile.


the name is wrong. all wrong, and all out of proportion. i don't like it. she is the sunshine of the room, it's obvious. four men in orbit and she holds it all down. the gravity at the center of it all. the yellow shirt part of the uniform, but even without she'd shine.

she likes, she says. trying to think of what to say, with the Fuzz and the co-workers and her distraction all playing. "seven" says a slowed down moore, and she says she likes. a compliment from a perfect compliment - even if the moniker has proven problematic in the past. smiles come with the service? then fill 'er up.

i'll have the usual

the shoes slant forward. the hair tilted back. eye contact from behind the counter at a late hour. smiles. the buzz keeps active. color codes block us apart. white accents dance in spheres across her crown. tiara de triomphe, s'il vous plaît.

there's no passing under this monument. no eiffellian supports bracing rigid over the scene. the traffic speeds round and no opportunity. boistrous room, pancakes, coffee, beautiful women. yeah, i'll have the usual, thanks.


displaced and unrecognized in the fleeting movement of the steps. flowers cast shadows long

the theatre of service

flatter out your hair, flatten out your smile. the embellishments come out the back and front, respectively.

if this is the security then i will never be safe. beads of sweat form at the thought of an interrogation. this face is plain. and in being plain, it is perfect. interecepted (by boyfriend? by jealousy?) by co-worker at the register. it allows for some reflection upon the need for inspection. for the need to admire. it's all in the face. not in the body, not the dream job, not the look. the face and all it says. the face and all it's not wearing.

your red shirt, my red secret

her red shirt bites against her in places you want to bite against.

for those about to serve

when you take my order you take my heart, i promise you that

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