Now invisible to the check-out-chick,
While struggling to get change back into my wallet,
Quickly slipping four fingers through green-bag handles,
To get out of the next guy’s way,
Who’s being served with the same,
How-you-goin’-not-bad-how-‘bout-you-yeah-fine-thanks
~Thing,
That we’d exchanged mere seconds ago.
Didn’t feel dehumanized,
As much as glad,
That these rigidly polite formalities,
Stopped either of us really interacting.
Because I could tell,
Just by looking,
That her day had been as lousy,
If not more,
Than mine.
And truth is,
I really didn’t care,
To hear too much about that,
Either.
______________________________
-Peace
.
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