15 Item Limit

The woman behind me objects.
You have more than 15 items.
I look in my basket.
Close enough, I say.
She puts her hands on her hips and looks at me as if
I am the worst person in the world.
She points at the sign.
I say, Three apples count as one item.
She shakes her head and says, That's still too many.
Sour face.
I shrug, turn away,
No time for petty bitches,
Put my groceries on the moving belt.
That man has too many items, she tattles to the cashier,
Who looks at me with understanding eyes.
Her name tag says DEBBIE, and she says,
I'll go faster then, and gives me what I think is a wink.
The impatient lady sighs, Well fine then.
I nod thanks to Debbie who says My pleasure, and
I fall in love with her on the spot.
Debbie is probably too old for me, but overcomes it with
An agreeable demeanor and accommodation,
Magnetic and somehow erotic.
If I lean over to kiss her she would not resist,
I'm sure.
Nice of you, I whisper so no one will hear.
Do you need some help out? she asks..
Yes, I say bravely, If it's you.
Debbie smiles warmly and seems to understand my interest.
I'll get a bag boy to help you, she says, But I think you can handle it, right?
It is her polite way of dismissing an infatuation she sees all day.
I can, I say.
Debbie holds out my receipt and I touch her hand taking them.
She doesn't pull away, but looks me straight in the eye and says,
Have a great rest of the day.
I hang my head, lift my two bags, and
Glance back at the woman who is nudging her basket toward me.
Some people don't have any manners and don't know how to count, she says,
Some people.

© Poem Fix 2012
Photo by Poemfix

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