Wrote this just now. Hope you like it. Love to you. Hope you're peaceful. Sometimes I think my higher power speaks to me through random people. <3 -- C.A.
Aisle Five
His spine curves.
He bends when walking.
And then he stands taller,
shaking,
reaching for the top shelf,
stretching for the shot
like a movie man.
The gentle one asks me
where he can find
the liquid stevia.
See, it moved.
I point to the highest shelf,
but he shakes his head.
No, it's not the same.
He has glasses.
His stubble is salt
and salt and pepper.
He is slow to speak
or make a move.
Do...I...know you?
I give him a maybe.
His smile spreads
a rapid ocean
across his rough chin,
and he turns away,
shuffling,
then limping,
pushing his cart sideways,
nursing the broken wheel.
Halfway down the aisle,
he turns around,
softly looks at me
through deep-set,
blue-ringed, pitchy eyes,
and pauses there,
waiting for the world.
In a sugary whisper,
he says,
Maybe I'll come back.
C.A. MacConnell
