nowhere to be found <br />finally dump a six pack of Diet Coke in the wagon <br />also four Red Bulls needing the safety of caffeine <br />because outside the 62 degrees <br />hurts my heart, only later to learn <br />the warmest January on record <br />winter now damaged beyond repair <br />so I begin my casual search <br />for gorgeous women to stare at <br />when I hear, “Bernstein” and turning <br />see Melisha Powell smiling <br />speaking in Jamaican, the rhythm <br />like Shakespearean speech dipped in honey <br />so happy to see me, her favorite teacher <br />now a model, her face pure beauty <br />mumbling I ask, “How much? ” <br />why I don’t know, nor what I meant. <br />“A hundred grand, ” she whispers <br />when an elderly woman appears <br />her granny, well, another beauty, <br />then Melisha leaning to kiss my forehead <br />and both drift off <br />like black rainbows in a perfect sky. <br />Slims Jims forgotten now, <br />at the register I hand over cash <br />getting pennies for change <br />and see two men packing my stuff <br />faces awkward, off center, <br />intelligence spoiled at birth <br />yet alive <br />and for years not knowing how to feel <br />but wanting to feel: <br />all being are perfect <br />yet pity. <br />“Good job, ” I say smiling <br />as I hoist the bags <br />waiting <br />no reaction from the brain broken man <br />his mouth frozen open <br />the tongue locked just past the lips. <br />“MELISHA, ” I call out <br />again: “MELISHA.” <br />The sound traveling far <br />a moment later she rushes to the register <br />“What is it, Bernstein? ” <br />her granny next to her <br />already knowing the answer <br />nevertheless I say, <br />“Another kiss, if possible.”<br /><br />Charles Chaim Wax<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/wandering-stop-n-shop-in-search-of-slim-jims/
