Friday, May 21, 2010

Poem: The Counterwoman

by Alex Gallo-Brown

Have a nice night, the counterwoman sings,

in perfect unison with her own voice
from just moments ago.
The inflection is dead on.
She has herself down.

I can't see her from where I sit--

another person behind another counter--
but I know from experience
her economy with her eye contact.
To me, she has never sung.

I am not entitled to her eyes, 

nor deserving of her breath.

Like her, I will spend my night

behind the counter.
And I, like her,
labor under no delusions
it will be nice.

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