Looking Good

I thought I’d stop and have a bite
and maybe grab a brew.
The pretty waitress smiled at me.
She must be someone new.

She wore a nametag on her blouse.
I couldn’t make it out.
I squinted as I stared at it.
She looked at me with doubt.

Her name might start with ‘B’, I thought.
I couldn’t read the rest.
My eyesight can be hit or miss.
I looked up from her chest.

“What are you looking for down there?
My face is way up here.”
I looked her in the eyes this time
and ordered a draft beer.

I wasn’t being rude, you know,
but my poor eyes are bad.
And looking at her chest like that
I must seem like a cad.

When she returned I smiled at her
as she set down my beer.
I snuck a new look at her blouse
as I said, “Thank you, dear.”

Her nametag shouldn’t be in script.
It’s hard for me to read.
Now I look like a leering fool,
a depraved jerk, indeed.

I finished up my beer real fast
and headed for the door.
The bill was not too much at all,
but I left her lots more.

I have to get my eyes checked out
before I cause a fight.
Or maybe I’ll just have to wear
dark glasses day and night.

Was that Betty? Brenda? Maybe Beth.
I think she liked me.