His trips to her aromatic
bathroom now habitual,
the pubescent boy’s bare feet
rested on his grandmother’s
cushioned pink hamper,
making him feel womanly
—
slim young kid with crew cut
marveling at shiny pennies
from cashier at OfficeMax,
offering them to his mother
—
at the sale,
a rapt crowd began
building around
the Sharpies
—
“I feel like a communist,” she said,
swiveling her body while
modeling an olive green
bomber jacket in the mirror,
her teen companions clueless
Superbly crafted and envisioned.
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