Bodega Talk
Evening is settling in.
I empty my basket at the counter.
A pint of vodka
(the kind that comes in plastic bottles),
a bottle of ’Tums’ antacids.
A box of frozen French Bread Pizza.
A jar of jalapeno peppers.
A world-weary Latino lady
checks the items,
then checks me over coolly.
Her look suggests that she knows,
has seen it all before,
probably guessing my wife is away.
“Did you find everything you need?"
“Yes Rosina.” I say reading her name tag.
Now she smiles!
I pick up my plastic bag,
as I leave I hear her call-out sardonically:
"Have a good one."
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