Clerk: Whatever You Say, Say Nothing

Clerk:  Whatever You Say, 

Say Nothing

                        

                       You know them

by the decline of their spine

the epileptic twitch of their eyelid

when they drop the penny

on the floor and it twists

and rolls while they or a neighbor grope

old tiles for where it may

have lit: cold copper in the dust

the bottom shelf. 

                        Her boy was in here

just before school ended, no penny

but a wish and when I asked

what he’d get on his report card, all A’s?

he said yes—and left with a hard

round cheek

gurgling a thank-you, holding the door

for a sir or a ma’am, smiling back

at me through the glass.  I’d a thought

to hire him this summer,

                                                to sweep

or stock, or load a bag or two

for those ma’am’s and sirs

or run this or that down the road

to Mrs. Cleaves, young

new widow,  loves to see children,

Jesus, what a shame.  What a shame.