Grocery Boy Finalist
by Lynne Burnett © 2017
he’s a grocery boy in an older man’s body,
still dreaming—like any twenty-year-old
before a major head injury would—
of the beautiful women yet to come.
And come they do—to the stocked shelves,
pushing their carts like baby carriages,
strolling the aisles of their good lives.
moves, but stiffly, accommodating
his intentions as best it can, as if he
were remotely controlling it for the
first time. But it’s his limbs seizing
the courage to keep moving
that mercifully fires his separate parts
into agreement. Nothing remote about that.
shining cars. It’s hard for him to speak
a sentence and be understood, but he tries
anyway: each word fought for, dragged
from the bottom of the laryngeal sea,
while his listeners fish for patience,
a few turning away with quick thanks and
driving off, their own tongues floundering.
from the chain around his neck—
the reason he’s still here, he says, and why
every day is “awesome”—because blue
sky, black sky, brazen eye of summer,
that’s the view the living have, and snow,
rain, wind are all two thumbs up
on the scale of tingling his skin.
With the light of the world glinting
in his eyes and the bleached sands of
his hair, shoring him up against the
cruel twist of the years, he writes down
his number, wants to talk longer, later.
Let the beat go on for the heart
that insists dreams are meant to be
reached for, not shelved.
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Lynne Burnett lives with her husband in West Vancouver, BC, Canada. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Blue Heron Review, CV2, Geist, Pedestal Magazine, Pandora’s Collective, Malahat Review, Taos Journal of International Poetry and Art, and a Tupelo Press chapbook anthology. She’s 2016 winner of the Lauren K. Alleyne Difficult Fruit Poetry Prize.
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Read this and the 60+ poems in 'The Best of Kindness 2017' available on Amazon.com or from our publisher's CreateSpace e-store: https://www.createspace.com/7018282
Above photo of lawn chair with pitcher taken by Jan Keough
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Are there small or large gestures of kindness? How do we decide? The poets in this 60-poem collection ask and try to answer. Join poets from 30 states & a dozen countries on this journey.