Eastern European barmaid

Born in land locked Europe -
you shine behind English oak.
I read your name and though you'll never know mine,
sometimes you remember the drinks I like
or ask how I am with a smile of recognition.
Yet the next day I'm another barfly, alone, uncouth -
You work dressed in black and your quality avoids my eyes.
Instead they see your narrowed nose,
with it's mask of subtle cheeks and chin lost -
there is your tease for greed - intentness on gain,
yet, eager to be seen as exploited.
Happily appeasing eyes as long as they buy,
funding wages and way outs from wherever.
You pour me my ale when I pay you -
perhaps it's best we leave it there.