The patrons all touch the waitress.
They touch her waist just below
the black halter top
and just above
her short, black shorts.

She puts her arm on their shoulders
and presses her body up close.
Her red lips speak into the ears
of her customers --
the same red lips that left
their mark on the cigarette
when I sat down.

When she bends over
to pull a beer from the cooler of ice,
the men look at each other
and smile.