12 Items or Less

Jan 14 2020

In line at the check-out

12 items or less

    —     my inner pedant

        reflexively correcting

     to fewer from less   —

the lives of strangers

briefly intersect.

We avert eyes, calibrate distances,

a couple chats quietly

kids wheedle and whine.

I scrutinize each transaction

with my usual impatience,

judging junk food and impulse buys

the cashier's indifferent dawdling.

The line eases ahead

a single step

before pausing again,

like the gently bumping cars

when a slow train stops.

And I wait, jaw set

for a price check

personal cheque

hunt for a credit card.

Give an inward sigh

as the coupon lady sorts her slips,

fanning them out on the conveyor

like a magician shuffling decks.

But there is one woman who smiles,

engaging her neighbour

in an amused observation

some idle talk.

While the rest of us

in our small sovereign principalities

discreetly watch,

feeling our own boundaries soften

borders ease.

Still on guard

against foreigners and aliens,

but a little more amenable

to a temporary visa.

Not to mention appreciative

how much discomfort shared

is easier to bear

than autonomy.

Meanwhile, the woman's credit card

has been rejected

a second time.

Yet no one seems to mind

when she rifles though her purse

searching for cash;

some crumpled bills

loose change, covered in lint.

An apologetic smile

that even I return.