Grocery Poem Xviii
I’ve started seeing faces
of once strangers reappear with time
they don’t spare a smile for me
perhaps I’m still a stranger to them
the mother with a cart full of fresh
produce and peanuts, a daughter eating grapes
the steel-toed man at the sandwich
counter who eats absolutely no tomato
I can feel the warmth in the quilted
fabric of our lives, slowly woven together
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