The Pizza Exchange

The Pizza Exchange

I grab a hot bag, run out the door,
and into my car I hop.
“Out of my way, I’m on a mission,
and I cannot be stopped.”

I do all the crazy things
you see pizza drivers do,
because I want your food
hot and fresh when it gets to you.

At your house, I step out of my car,
and into a puddle of water.
You answer the door, don’t even notice,
you’re paying attention to your daughter.

I give you the food, you pay with a twenty,
I hand you back your change.
With a delighted smile on your face,
I get a buck for our exchange.

I look at you, then at the dollar.
My face is in a fuss.
I can’t help myself as I give it back.
I cry, "Are you serious?"

"The gas is four bucks a gallon,
let us not forget the oil;
the wear and tear on my tires, and
my shoes your dirt has soiled.

“All of these things are necessities
to get your food to you,
but when it comes to tipping,
you act as if it’s taboo.

“You may have little; bet I have less,
so don’t hold your money so tight.
Think of MY teenager at home,
and then do what is right.”