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.