baking
bread
at wegman's.
she's wearing a tall white
hat, fluffed
just so. the dust of flour
on her face.
an apron is strung
tightly
around her slender neck.
her hands are pink from
kneading dough,
i imagine if i could
get close enough
that she'd smell like cinnamon,
or nutmeg.
a jelly roll.
she smiles at me when
i stop
to watch her take hot loaves,
still steaming,
off the racks.
i squeeze the muffins she
just set out
and wink.
my heart leaps when
she winks back.
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