SHE TOLD ME SHE WAS BORED

by whitehorse

he stood with his arms up to the elbow in wash water
scrubbing at particles of food that just didnt want to let go

and i was feeling quite nostalgic

there was a sort of sad irony
rubbing himself out

but maybe im looking too deep

we spoke openly but in whispers
a contradiction by definition our stories almost silent
as to not impose upon our visitors
who use us as tools for thier pleasure
then disregard us as quickly as we hand them change

but not real change, just coins and paper

and we flash our last attempts at smiles
hoping
for a few cents in a cup

i just wanted the rush to calm down so i could talk to him
ask him what happened

and as customers cleared out of our store
he cleared his throat
and spoke