I stand behind him in line
at the counter where we order
food prepared before
our very eyes for us
to admire the deft efficiency
of the woman who slices the meat
dips the bread and piles
coleslaw on the plate
it’s cash only and he
covers the price and leaves
a twenty dollar tip
which he waves before
dropping it on the
charge tray and she
says, “Are you sure?”
and he says, “Yes, Dahlin’
don’t trouble your pretty little head,
you deserve it and more,”
and he takes his tray of food
to a little table in the room
and sits by himself hoping
someone will remember
he’s the big tipper
and then goes out into parking
where his big shiny car
waits gleaming classic
the kind of car
people gather around
to hear him talk
about what’s under
the hood
and then he drives through
the streets hoping
people will turn their heads
and he drives home
to his little place
where he lives among
other little places
some with shiny cars
but his is best
he’s the big tipper