Five Three Eight
Five Three Eight
In that order
See it all the time
Reminding me of Stan, a really wonderful man
Who was not great at business
I worked for him as a cashier when I was sixteen
He always had a smile but was new in town
Almost no one shopped in our store
Because he was new
He was so happy when
anyone came in
I felt so sad for him
I babysat for him and his wife sometimes
Their children were darling cute and smart
Two, four and six, all knock-offs of him and his wife
A cute couple, sweet, but neither realizing
Small town USA is not open to newcomers
Five Three Eight
His store number
The thing that killed him
At a young age
The night before his grandson was born
May third, two thousand and eight
The same as his store number
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2019
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