How Fries Will Change You

I’m calling for fries
over the counter full
of fried food and grease
while the chefs ignore me.
Someone taps me twice
on the shoulder as tears salt 
my lips. “What?” I snap, 
searching for a coworker’s face. 
The old woman from my table 
takes a step back. “Excuse me?” 
she says, her wrinkles contorting. 
“I’m so sorry, ma’am, I thought 
you were my coworker” I try
to explain. “The women’s restroom
is out of toilet paper.” She walks 
off to clear her plate. I let one more
drop roll down my cheek as I say 
goodbye to any chance at a tip
and turn back to face the head chef. 
“How hard is it to give me some damn
fries?” I continue yelling. When I clock 
out that night I write in my diary. 
I can’t remember one detail of my night 
that doesn’t erase me.

Kaylee Lowe lives in Tennessee and recently graduated with a Creative Writing degree from Cumberland University. Poems from her senior project chapbook, “Black Apron,” have been published in New Square literary journal, Cafe Review, and here in Novus Literary Arts Journal. She plans to pursue a M.F.A. in Creative Writing.