The Man with a Mop

Christon Tsimaris

Christon Tsimaris

I don’t know his name
I simply call him Ronald
and he never corrects me
his badge just reads McDonalds
Whenever I am in Omak I stop in
for a cheeseburger & some fries
and he’s swinging his mop
or pushing his old broom
wiping up the messes

The man never stops
simply poetry in motion
Verses spelled out in work
No one ever tells him what to do
He sees what’s needed and does it
Finished with mopping sweeping
he wipes down the tables
whether dirty or clean
same with the chairs

If the napkin or cup`
holder is low he fills it
same as the katsup pump
When he sees everything’s full
he takes up his mop or his broom
and starts the old routine again
Never speaks to anyone
Never looks at anyone
Simply does his work

‘If I owned a business
I’d want a worker like you!’
I told him Told his manager
‘Make him employee of the month!’
‘We do not do that at this franchise!’
‘Thanks for coming to McDonalds!’
Ronald’s maybe 50 maybe 70
I wonder if anyone ever
says ‘Thanks Ronald!’

“Silence is the language of god,
all else is poor translation.” ~ Rumi

[Contributed for the Collection ~ “A Voice for the Voiceless”: or                                               All Submissions are welcomed for consideration.]


About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
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