& a benjamin never changed hands

she pulls
& i push
the cart—
fried chicken,
pizza, raspberries,
chocolate muffins,
milk, lemon & lime
juice, beans,
tortillas, etc.
i move a wave.
my white tennis
shoes passing
a person wheeling
mountain dew & other
carbonated beverage. a
woman talks about her
day opposite russell
stoffer chocolate.
the checkout lady
tells another employee
“they sure do!” need to
watch some video,
before handing me
a white slip totaling
my purchases.
soon we are driving
home & she tells me
there’s a luxury tax
for anything diminishing
light in your eyes,
laughing breaths,
tears reeling a
friend’s joke
out squirmy
stomach depth.
i stare through
passengers window,
remembering how
you called the tax
collector, love &
he left h


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