August 31, 2021

last slice at the Circle K

A woman is buying two packs of Marlboro Lights and a sleeve of scratch-offs. 
Another is clutching Sour Patch Kids and a bottle of sweetened iced tea.
I am in for a large bag of ice for $4.99 plus tax. The cashier looks young enough
to be my nephew. It is almost the end of summer. Down the road, a line
of school buses arc the perimeter of the elementary parking lot. In the garden,
everything is spending the final dregs of chlorophyll. But I can’t take my eyes off
the hotbox at the counter, the slow rotation of the last slice of the day. I wonder 
who will come through the glass doors at some late hour and say, ”I’ll take it.”
Who will be hungry and tired and empty enough to reach for the remains. And when 
we will all be.