The usual patrons

She might have been beautiful, before kids
and two jobs, just to get by, but now she
pushes open the run down diner's door.
Two toddlers clung to fabric at her hips,

A third child rounding out her belly.
Empty booths beckoned the single mother
But the hostess was nowhere to be seen,
despite the “Please wait to be seated” sign.

It had been a long day and her feet hurt.

Her ass ached from frisky slaps given by
overzealous truckers, usual patrons.
Degrading comments by her boss still stung
but the mother up front had her hands full
and it sure looked like they could use a meal.