man behind the counter,
behind the slant of
the deli
glass,
behind
the bins
holding cold cuts
and cheeses
is dressed in white.
it seems that he's never
been younger
than he is
right now.
his paper hat tilted
to the side.
unshaven,
and tired.
but he smiles and says,
you're next,
number six hundred
and seventy-six.
do you want
pickles?
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