The Cake At Courtyard Cafe

I take a seat at the corner end of the bar.
Near the door...
Just in case a hasty escape is in order.
Juice brings me a Coke-A-Cola
that ends up tasting exceptionally well.
It soothes my crying body's
need of sweets, caffeine and hydration.
He goes for a piss he tells me;
and Im alone...

The bartender lady comes over
and moves a cake that had previously
sat within my reach...
She places it at the opposite end of the bar.
Where I cannot reach it.

Im thinking:
What is a cake doing in a dirty
downtown Cincinnati bar anyway?

Im thinking:
What place does a fucking cake
have in ANY bar?

I drink my Coke-A-Cola slowly.
I don't know if refills are given so freely
in such a place as this.

But that cake...
That cake is now safe!
It’s pieces shall live to see another day!
Another hour...
Another minute...
Until they are ordered and devoured
in subsequent order.