An abuelita came to my register
with bitter, ungrateful returns
expensive sweatpants from a grown-up daughter
and hand-picked grandson’s sweater.
Her brown-spotted hands shook with age
as she sorted out her receipts
she outlined the sales in shaky red pen
but could not see the letters.
I quietly studied every receipt
matched numbers with gifts thrown back
and long after she hobbled away
her back lingered before my eyes.
I sat later, over my dinner
haunted by red-lined receipts
and wondered at people who toss such love
as if it were moldy cheese.
with bitter, ungrateful returns
expensive sweatpants from a grown-up daughter
and hand-picked grandson’s sweater.
Her brown-spotted hands shook with age
as she sorted out her receipts
she outlined the sales in shaky red pen
but could not see the letters.
I quietly studied every receipt
matched numbers with gifts thrown back
and long after she hobbled away
her back lingered before my eyes.
I sat later, over my dinner
haunted by red-lined receipts
and wondered at people who toss such love
as if it were moldy cheese.