Enigma On Toast

“What is that?”

I asked the waitress, pointing to the plate.

“It’s what you ordered.” she said,

having heard everything already before

and had an Occam’s razor 

one could sense the sharpness.

I was stuck.

If I said anything more about it,

we both would know I was a fool.

There was a loooong pause…we

continued to look directly at each other,

neither breaking eye contact.

Her nonchalant directness was amazing 

and uncanny…not unfriendly.

Finally, I said: “Could I have a cup of coffee?”

as if nothing had happened.

That really happened.