In Line at the Grocery Store, 6PM


I miss
the tenderness,
the man
ahead
of me
whispers
to his cart,
or to the
perilous
air—
perhaps
even
to me,
standing
six feet
back,
in tears
behind
my mask.


Play Notes: This poem grew out of something I witnessed while standing in line at a corner market more than 20 years ago. I just placed it in a pandemic setting. The grocery store, by the way, is a great place to shop for poetic inspiration, even during a pandemic. If you must buy your groceries in person, watch for a "good deal" from your muse on your next trip.

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