She’s twelve.
He’s eighteen, her brother
She’s awkward, shy and unpretty
They’re there – his friends
His friends are gods!
Tall boys, black hair, blue eyes
One smiles
Her eyes dart to the pavement,
She pulls at her shirt.

Her brother calls to her,
The playing has stopped
She walks closer,
The ball’s been dropped,
But, he still has the bat.
Too late she sees the circle - she’s in.
He whips the bat at the back of her knees,
She moves forward but doesn’t fall,
The bat is light yellow, “faded by the sun”, she thinks as he raises it again.
This time she falls.
The gods laugh and one picks up the ball.

It’s her fault.
She takes the blame.
She’s the one who  -
interrupted  -
Their game.

Alone in Costco

No sample of frozen meatballs, spinach dip, or garlic rolls -

For me, please. Thank you, though.

I’m here for pepper, spices, cheese, and large screen TV.

I want to go home, not play bumper shopping carts today.

I dream of the people who will sit in the lounge chair by the electric
fireplace and eat cheese from bright blue dishes I should buy.

All the items are in my cart.

Then I remember – no one is coming.

I return these items to the aisles where they don’t belong.

Putting a dish set next to the 2 gallons of milk

I will sit in the food court,

Eat a greasy, cheap hot dog and sip my giant flat Pepsi.

Guessing the life stories of shoppers that pass.

“What is he doing with that box of tomatoes and electric blanket?

Who needs six gallons of Johnny Walker?

That’s gotta be a party. I wonder if I can go?’

“Excuse me, Mam – Isn’t anyone sitting here?” a father of 2 asks.

“No. I’m just leaving.” I throw the last of the hot dog in the trash.

Alone in Costco with no reason to consume,

Just fading memories of people I knew.