-Joy S. Barefoot
Just beyond the potato bin
where the hands of bananas
laid separated
and sprawled about,
he was checking out
the frozen delicacies
when his eyes
caught upon a lovely thing.
She was some years younger than I
(patiently waiting
at the poultry counter).
He watched her,
seemingly entranced.
Was it her easy movement;
her manicured tips and toes;
the high-heeled sling pumps
descending from hips
that swung fabric
back and forth,
as she called out her thanks
to the happy little meat manager
and swished that silken fabric
down the canned vegetable aisle
all the while aware
of the eyes
in the frozen delicacies?
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