Shopping with Richard

Doing the daily beer and grocery shopping, 
something in the Dollar Store 
hijacks my inner calm. 
The weirdness invades my 
nostrils-lungs-heart. 
And often as manageable 
I try to suppress discomfort. 

Others see a man a little too neat 
for the occasion, covering his 
nose and mouth, eyes frozen, 
memorized words 
ticking in the brain. 

On other occasions, like this one, 
I've got this daring sense of mischief 
and self-confidence... 

I noticed the woman behind the register, 
this overweight gal who's reliably obnoxious 
and phony, and like some deleted scene 
from Mulholland Dr. she amplifies the weirdness. 

I walk around, collecting my things, then 
pause in the aisle that lines up with the 
register, about a hundred feet away, and 
I put down my basket and stand there. 
Hand over nose and mouth, I draw a deep breath 
from somewhere inside, randomly decide a mantra, 
and focus this prayerful energy. 

I've been joking audibly and facetiously 
in either opposition to bored anxiety 
or anxious boredom, so if the cashier 
hasn't noticed me yet, she has surely 
noticed me 
now. 

And I stand there. We make eye-contact. 

Her weirdness and the scent 
experiences practically no change. 

I return to my shopping, assess completion, 

then move to the counter where another person 

is paying for items. 

They and the cashier exchange small talk, pleasantries, 

and promptly thereafter I set down the basket 
with the beer and groceries. 

I've got this confidence, this curious 
inclination to be disingenuous. 

And I banter with the cashier 
and like a team we pretend 
to pretend like we're not pretending. 

It's terrifying, but slightly fun. 

She cards me like she always cards me, 

either of some irrational malice, 

or maybe it's just her job. 

I awkwardly remove my driver's license 

(I should really work on that) 

saying she could probably draw it from memory. 

The cashier says how it's a policy, and 
she once carded a woman 
who was a hundred years old. 

And that they had a laugh 

afterwards. 

"It might've been the last laugh she had," I said. 

"I sure hope not!" tension rattling through the words. 

"Why? You want her to spend the rest of her life 
in misery?" 

"Well, no..." 

"And what are you doing about it? I'm 

gonna go find that woman right now." 

I paid for my things, collected the receipt, 
then got back outside, reflexively spitting 
on the ground near the exit. 

I only live like a block away. 

****