Chips, fruit and fairly products
Line the convenience store shelves--
A bountiful dinner
For ten dollars
And thoughts heard by oneself.The man
With the windbreaker
Asks for a plastic bag
At the counter."How are we, amigo?"
Says the cashier.
"Fine,
Yourself?"
"Oh, you know, the usual. It's cold, eh?
Are we braving the outside? That jacket
Looks thin.""I've layered up," the man replies.
He rubs his hands together.
The cashier prints out the receipt and
The man with the windbreaker
Pays in cash.
The store lights hum
And the ceiling fan whirls."Where's your kid?" the man says.
"At school. I know he plans
To come back here though.
Taking over Papa's business, am I right?
Sometimes I don't know
What I'm going to do after this.
But that's life, yeah?
Did you want to buy another ticket?""Eh, not tonight. Those numbers don't look good."
"You have a favourite?"
"Favourite of the day. Always changes."
The men watch the TV screen
Overhead
For some minutes.
The shooter scores a goal.
The man with the windbreaker
Studies the shot
The technique, the timing, the goalie's own fault
For letting the rookie
Score.
"You know what,
Let's play."
He hands over the numbered ticket Marked in blue pen.
The ticket is scanned."Winner! Gagnant!"
The cashier slides two toonies to the man.
"Nice."
The aluminum wrapper crinkles
As the man takes a mouthful
of granola and digs in his pocket
For spare change."Sorry man, I think I spent my last."
"It's good. See you tomorrow?"
"Uh-huh. I have some things
To catch up on. Tell your wife I said hi."The door chime jingles
As the man pushes the door
Out into the parking lot.
He walks home, no rush
Eating the food as he goes.
YOU ARE READING
Cement City
PoetryHow to capture it all? I was no photographer My paint brushes, I have retired And words simply do not belong On a cover The same way they fit In my mouth, or march along the surface Of these pages. How to capture it all? The sounds, the smells, the...