Her face, oddly square,
affronted by years of defeat
has an expressive sadness
highlighted by wormlike lips

Her purchase, an ordered array of
frozen things, soups, fruit drink
and packs of knee highs
bearing health claims

“I’ll leave the bleach”
The bleach will stay behind;
for what sanguine purposes
had it been intended?

She bumbles away as I advance
my Snickers and settle,
then drive off, passing her,
walking, resolute, surviving