One Former Bus Boy, Two Nurse Practitioners
After Shift Change and a Bar

They arrived around 1 A.M. on
a slow summer night. I remembered him
as one of the all-around good guys who,
actually, did the work at the restaurant that
cured me forever of living the good life,
in the fast lane, dealing with wealthy people
and all their entitled, privileged attitudes
that came with the money.
“How are you? I asked, though it seemed
pretty clear he was doing just fine.
“Couldn’t be better.” He said with one of
those smiles that spoke volumes about where
the rest of his night was headed with two,
still-in-uniform nurses, who had seen it all,
done it all, and didn’t care what anyone
thought about anything.
“Just out for a quick one with my two best girls.”
He didn’t bother asking me how I was.
It was just too obvious that I was putting in time
at this end of the world place, as compared
to where I had been when we had vastly different jobs
in the same place.
He left a nice tip, chugged his beer and
gave a, “catch you later” little wave, heading
out to wherever their bower of bliss was.
I wiped the bar down and thought how I had
nothing to look forward to but last call.