how may i serve you

the outside world seems
to be a scary place
for those with handicaps
and here i am
now one of them
head tilted to earth
neck stretched taut
the only sight for me
is shoes, dirt,
and concrete.
i don't get to engage with eyes,
with the inside of souls
and i feel very much
on the outer edges of
living.
i am wary to leave my house
for the fear of being at a
gaping disadvantage
everyone having eyes
and me not
having
hardly one.
we pulled up to
a seedy diner
walls and windows covered
in years of smoke and
forgotten dreams.
the smell of stale coffee
and old grease
envelope us as we enter
and it strangely feels
safe and comforting.
no one will stare
i hope to myself
i just came here looking for
some grub
we're seated along the wall
and nathan scopes the place out for me
assuring me
no one could give
two shits about us
good.
that's the way i want it
no secretly peering eyes
thinking they're subtle
i know
i'd feel them
pelting my skin
anyways.
still, this all feels rather isolating and lonely,
darkness my company.
the waiter saunters up
and i brace myself-
i don't want to give the wrong impression-
as if i am some stuck up broad
who won't even lift her eyes to make
contact
and won't even take her glasses off to enter
reality.
i bubble out quickly
there's an explanation to all of this
and i wish i could see you
but i can't
or my retina will pop off the
back of my eyeball..
and this big waiter-
i can tell by the size of his voice
and the heat radiating off his
brawny tired body.
and instead of the scoffing or 
awkward silence
i antipate will meet me
he slams his head down onto the table
and turns his face
now below mine
as if he's just set a place of eggs and potatoes
before me,
only, it's his head,
his eyes and ears
all in glorious view for me to see.
l laugh in relief
and reach my hand gently to
reach for
his shoulder which matches a bull, 
our eyes actually meeting! 
he says kindly with a twinkle
[that i actually get to see for once,
at least with my good eye]
"how may i take your order?"
how could i tell this man 
that this small tiny act of lowering 
himself in order to serve me
meant more than i could say?
he made me feel 
human again.
seen. 
understood.
it has never left me 
and is a reminder for me 
to continue to seek the way that 
is lowly, kind, and thoughtful.
it reminds me to use any opportunity 
to uplift, 
bring honor to, 
and elevate others 
before myself. 
even something as small 
as slamming your head on a table 
so the blind girl can see..
one of the greatest acts of humility 
that i have experienced. 

thank you kind server. 
my eye and dignity 
and little heart thank you.