The waiter comes later

We had a waiter.
Solemnly he'd pour another glass - we were only 2
' There's never less than 3, remember that ' he said,
' It casts a gaze thicker than soup if not served,
It might even follow me at might.
I live far away, you know
And old bicycles jitter
And my dear wife
Answers first the window
- No I wouldn't want a guest beside me;
Noisily they wash
Their warmth usurps seats
Good bits of fish all go to them -
Frankly, we don't enjoy that. '

The next we met,
long time, yet
I thought I remembered.
' How are you? How's wife? ' I asked.
- ' She left me.. she ran away, yea.
Now it might take a year or two
But I'm sure to find a good girl. '