Bodega Talk
I empty my basket at the counter.
Six individual cans of strong imported beer.
A plastic bottle of ’Tums’ antacids.
A box of frozen French Bread Pizza.
A jar of jalapeno peppers.
The wiry cute middle-aged blond
checks the items, then checks me out.
I flash my eyebrows, sometimes it works.
Her smile suggests that she knows.
Has seen it all before.
I smile back,
signaling I know that she knows.
“Did you find everything you needed’?
“Yes Debora”. I see her name tag.
I pick up my plastic bag,
turn to leave
expecting to hear parting words.
Silence,
But in my head
I hear:
‘have a good one’.
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