Dear Foodlion clerk,
Once a week
Sometimes more
We meet at the cash register
At the Grocery store.
"How are you?"
"Paper? Plastic?"
Is there any way you could
Be less enthusiastic?
I try to start a conversation
"Yes, Ma'am"
You reply, and I suddenly
Feel older than Birmingham.
You take my coupons
You fill my bags
With soulless, hopeless eyes
Waving a silent white flag.
"Have a nice day," you say
But you aren't talking to me
You are on autopilot
Your eyes don't see.
I want to connect
I want to say,
"Your life can't be that bad
There will come a brighter day."
But I say instead,
"You too."
And I fall back into my own life
Until next week when I see you.
No comments:
Post a Comment