I was that red-haired waitress with a single line

who brought coffee to Matt Damon and Brad Pitt.

I got a smile like a tiled bathroom and an autograph

and two seconds of celluloid fame.


Next I was French Noblewoman #3                                                                                      

and curtsied to a king for sixteen takes.

If you pause the DVD, my blurry head is to the left

of Keira Knightley’s bony shoulder blades.


And then, last week in town in that one crucial scene

when you walked in, I was the girl in the café                                                                      

with the turquoise scarf and the caramel latte,

but it wasn’t a speaking role.


Leonie Wanitzek