What are boquerones?
This cocktail tastes like Tang.
We’ve been married eight years.
He doesn’t really want the skirt steak,
he wants the halibut, don’t you dear?
It’s not an allergy, it’s a sensitivity.
Call me later; she’s asleep by nine.
I’m a fussy eater.
Let me sample three draft beers?
I know you from somewhere, don’t I?
How many plates should we order?
What’s your name?
Do I have to share?
Where’s the other pretty waitress?
Why so much raw fish?
Can you turn down the music?
Can you turn up the lights?
What are tapas?
Can you repeat all the specials?
We might want to order more—don’t disappear.
Rebecca Irene is a graduate of Swarthmore College, and recently received her MFA in Writing from Vermont College of Fine Arts. Her work is published in Burningword Literary Journal, Amaryllis, Dime Show Review, and elsewhere. She received a 2018 fellowship from the Norton Island Artist Residency Program. A Poetry Reader for Hunger Mountain, and The Maine Review, she lives in Portland, Maine, where she supports her word-addiction by waitressing. www.rebeccairenewriter.com