Produce Aisle

The fluorescent hum, above the greens,

I saw her face, among the scenes

of shoppers pushing carts along.

My heart gave out a silent song.

She looked up, then, eyes met mine.

A flicker passed, a broken sign.

And then, a swift, deliberate turn.

No wave, no word, no lesson learned.

The polished floor, a blinding sheet,

between our carts, a cold defeat.

My hand went slick, on metal cold.

A story done, no longer told.