GOING BACK TO THE BEER STORE
C Ra McGuirt
the car seems out of character at this point,
so i walk with my umbrella in the twisting rain
& let it pull me back
to the place where
they were polishing
the floor
2 or 3
poems
ago.
the normal architecture of the aisles
is still in disarray,
but they buzz me in
the guys who were
doing the floor
& the girl behind
the register, who
warns me:
'you can't buy no beer
that you can't reach.
it's still wet
back there.'
they have cards spead on the counter,
& as i grab 2 miller lites
from the iced bin
near the front,
i warn the lady not to bet the store.
she laughs dutifully,
taking my money.
i go out&back downhill. the wind
is biting deeper from the north.
been a strange night so far.
maybe it will
snow
after
all.
