Crepes

Our server was Amira, from Russia,
she quietly brought me a delicious square wheat crepe,
with bacon and a big egg tucked inside.
She was wistful, then buoyant in conversation,
we were tired, hungry, then interested,
we came together around her desire
to come to America.
Don't go to Los Angeles, we said in stereo,
but we listed good places, Monterey, redwoods,
San Francisco.
It was a short list.
Hopefully, when she goes,
she will not miss stardom and become
eaten by bears, taken out by a pine cone
(oh yes a redwood cone will do it),
or run down by a cable car.

For dessert, sugar and butter crepes,
even better, and we ordered another
as soon as we'd finished the first.
I want to see Miami, said Amira.
We forgot to ask why, and she got busy.
She was sweet, strong, young and curious.
We were curious, tired, and older.
She gave us her sweet crepes.