the dime store

we called it
a dime store.
a place where
they had everything.
from cans of paint
to gallons
of milk, from
hair brushes
to donuts, to
brooms and
shampoo. on one
side was a counter
next to the magazine
and comic book
rack. a long shiny
slab of formica
with red swivel
stools set high,
menus were on a rack
next to a bottle
of ketchup, a jar
of mustard and
salt and pepper
shakers. there
was a full mirror
along the back
wall where you could
see yourself and
the rest of the store.
the woman behind
the counter
wore a hair net
and a pink blouse
with her name
pinned to it. she was
almost always, very
short and round,
and wore lipstick
and powdered cheeks.
she'd pour the cherry
juice into
a glass of a fountain
coke and then
grill you up a
cheese sandwich right
on the buttery
griddle. the dime store,
where a quarter
went a long ways.