the observant clerk

the clerk,

a young hipster woman

behind

the register,

bags my

groceries as they slide

up to her

on the conveyor belt.

you live alone,

don't you? she

says,

nonchalantly, as she

puts

one tomato, one avocado

and one steak

into the bag,

followed by batteries,

a box of hair dye,

and a

Consumer Report magazine.

divorced, and

living alone,

aren't you, she says,

not bothering to ask if

i have

coupons.

she knows i don't.