Regulars

When the regulars appear
there is no need to glance at the clock,
they are her timepiece.
Although she is aware of every name,
“Honey” suffices for each.
A priestess, this is her congregation.
For most, she does not
bother with a notepad; their orders,
unchanging as the view
of that parking lot, are memorized.
Retirees ushered in
by the two-lane outside her cafe,
this might well be their
only social interaction for the day.
Refilling coffee cups
and not rushing the check’s arrival,
at no extra charge
she banters before clearing the table,
never minding the tip.