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