There’s Tracyanne,
The husky cashier,
.
There’s Michelle,
The upwardly mobile,
Ambitious customer service clerk
.
And,
Among others,
There’s Grace,
The Amazon shopper
Who looks like a real, live,
Stuck-up bimbo.
.
It’s like something
Out of a movie.
.
In and out,
People file,
In rapid fire,
Not bothering each other,
In this college town in the mitten,
.
Some with kids,
.
Of good nature,
.
Calm,
.
Some with eccentric motives
Involving vermicelli noodles.
.
A semi-sociopathic front end manager comes up
And tells in a serious tone
That it’s a $10,000 fine
To leave the rail down on the ladder
While we’re on it.
.
I joke around with the kid from Detroit,
The lady from Ohio talks to me slowly,
Lets me in the back door,
Where a dude sees me checking out my reflection
In my smart phone and smiles.
.
And I sit out in the sun,
Unhinged,
Wanting to curl in on myself,
Wanting to be anywhere but here,
Anyone but me,
And
.
I learn to put one foot in front of the other
And creep closer to the end of my workday
When I can retire to my hotel room,
.
Can fantasize,
Can heal, and
.
At some point
I’m flanking the refrigerated case with the expensive cheese
Doing some odd job
And I seem to have once again connected
With the rhythm of humanity,
Glancing up and meeting a smile
From a 50-something man who looks like a professor.
.
And he seems like a genius
For his ability to be truly himself —
.
Why would genius not manifest
As appreciation for everyone,
For every moment on this planet,
In complete control and
With complete power?