What you don't know: Seven

Stock boy1

I work four days
out the week at
Maeyum's Organic grocey2

3:30-6:30
6.50 an hour
paycheck every week.
unlike some people
I don't complain.3

I'm a stocker.4

I hate bagging groceries.
I hate having so much free time
when things are slow.
Most baggers wander through
the strip mall across the street.5

Shelves empty fast
when health nuts are your
main coustemers.
searching for alternatives to junk
and hormone pumped foods.6

That's a lot of naked
shelves to re-stock.7


Today
we're busier than usual.
I'm in aisle sixteen
ripping open a box of
Wheat-O's cereal.8

across from me
an anorexic looking
woman destroys the pyrimid
of rice cereal I built
knocking the top
boxes down
grabs two
leaves the mess.9

abandoning the cart
I walk over to the table
and restack them.10

******11

Ms. Lori12

my manager's mother
shops here everyday.13

she's a wiry woman in her seventies
rosy rippled cheeks
toothpick fingers
ashy gray hair
dim blue eyes14

always wears a smile.15

she never leaves without
seeing me.
offers a small tin of ginger snaps.
she pinches my cheeks
pats my arm.16

"Take care of yourself, son." she says.17

I nod.18

Son.19

sometimes I wish
I were hers.20

******21

City Bus22

clusters of strangers
huddled together
white
black
hispanic
asian
jewish
gay
straight
married
single23

rainbow of people
tired
wreay
sweet
and
dirty
odors24

perfume
and sweat.25

silent conversations.
toddlers climbing in
there seats
chubby, tiny hands
waving at me.26

I smile.
wiggle my fingers.27

I sit near
the back door
beside a mother
and daughter
red head girl
freckles
she's drawinf fiercly in
her sketchbook.28

she sees me watching
grins
shows her cartoon
samuri fighting
a circus clown.
I laugh
take out a pen
give the clown
a weapon-
catfish.
she giggles.29

-Cool.- she says.30

the bus jolts to a stop
sputters
coughs out tired
people.
I put on my headphones
listening to the eccentric
voice of Bjork
while vacant bulidings pass by.31

******32

Pride33

I come home to
the sound of adult female
laughter
talking
drinking margaritas around
the glass table in the kitchen.34

all chatter ceases when I
walk in
glancing at each women
dressed in their Seventh Avenue outfits (Yes, I can tell which designer made what)
red lipsticked mouths smiling.35

they wave
say their polite hellos
look me up and down.
I get nervous.
too many females.36

a fake blonde
sitting next to mom
pats her arm
grinning devilishly.37

"I think it's obvious who's
the good-looking
one of the bunch Kirsten."
she says.38

I come closer.
Their looking
at photo albums.
I am not in them.39

the other women nod in agreement.40

"He's very handsome." 41

"If only I were fifteen years younger!"42

They all laugh loudly.43

"How old are you honey?" asks the black
woman standing next to me.44

"Um-sixteen."45

she squeezes my arm.
Her eyes pop out.46

"Ohhh. He has muscles.
I love a man who's masculine."47

"Charlie he's too young for you."48

"Blasphemy! You got a girlfriend sugar?"49

I'm embarrassed.50

"Um...no. I don't."51

"Well why not? I'm sure all the pretty
girls fall all over you."52

They don't. Sometimes I wish
they would. But I don't like
any of the other girls. I only
want Bjou. And she probably only
thinks of me as a friend.53

Besides
I'm too shy.
Girls probably know this.
Otherwise, they'd talk to me.
I thought I was only jittery around
females my age
but here are these thirty-ish
forty-ish women
flirting with me-and they're making me nervous as hell.
And I have to pee.54

"They don't." I say.55

Pointless to deny it.56

They gasp.
They think I'm teasing.
They say they'll have to bring their daughters next time.
I try not to look mortified.57


I grab what I came for from
the fridge.
I catch mom
half-smiling
as I glance over my shoulder
hoping
that the gleam in her
eyes is pride.58

******59


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