air a damp blanket
hanging overhead
in a long line that gets longer by the second,
I stand behind a woman holding a toddler,
a large-for-his age boy maybe 10 or 11
stands next to his mother
with a lid of sweet black curls over the shaved
sides with fancy design edging his plump face.
he kisses his younger sibling, makes him smile
over and over.
the woman stoic under the oppressive air
holding her heavy child.
behind me a woman in black head to foot
only her tiny moon face showing
the fabric with delicate woven design on the edges.
she hands her daughter a bag to fill with corn
get as much as you want, she says.
I am alone, no children to care for
a thin line of sweat runs between my shoulder blades.
I can complain about the hurting knee,
the heat, but in between the two mothers
I can only hope there will be a cantaloupe
left in the box when I get there
and a few tomatoes perhaps radishes.
the young man who works the stand
walks up the line offering blueberries
to the patient buyers.
