Cafe Angel

She pounced on that buffet
like a black widow
pouncing on her next lover
Cover all princess
Hair all a mess
Her walk was not a stride
It looked like a long ride
The day rolling down her
work worn clothes
slowly
Hands in her pockets
She belted out a gruff hello
To the John Deere fellow
He tipped his ball cap
Gave his leg a slap
He smiled mischievously
As she smiled in return
rather serenely
She pretended to study
the cauldron of soup
Witch eyes
watching
She looked back at him
a faint
blushing grin
He tipped his hat again
His café angel
On her lunch hour
2 lovers ready to devour