I walk across the parking lot
And admire the shiny Passat,
The midsize Mercedes.
This is the store I have come to.
And then turns in a beater car,
Windows open (presumably: no air conditioning).
This, too, is my store.
How strange that I should feel
Euphoric,
Overflowing with love.
Inside: local zucchinis, cherries on sale,
Different kinds of peaches,
A few more strawberries at the end of the season.
I try to walk around without grinning.
Impossible.
Too beautiful, too much to see and enjoy.
There are beautiful people with perfectly coiffed hair,
And, yes, a morbidly obese woman.
She, too, belongs with us.
The dapper businessman
And the woman in a wheelchair who smiles at my son …
My community of Friday evening shoppers.
Welcome.
Enter in.
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