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The Sweetheart Waitress

This girl knew what the profession was about.
She smiled at me three times
And I knew that she was Catholic
A red guard with a hard philosophy.

She had medium long black hair
And brown eyes that looked down her nose
She wore no glasses
And I could see her bra.

It showed lightly through the white shirt
At the pancake house
I knew that it was her style
Not some strange accident.

That was the first time she smiled.
On the second
She leaned over to hand me my eggs.
She knew that The Warlord was watching us.

We were flirting like teenagers
Something we wouldn’t have done
If The Warlord hadn’t been there.
And she kept my coffee hot.

It was a war-torn smile she had
When she came back for refills
With the sweat of the kitchen on her brow
And she asked "Don’t we know each other?"
without saying a word.

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