Out There Dancing
I think about Dawn or CVS brand dish soap.
I think “This one?” I think, “Yes, Cottonelle. Yes, clean-feeling ass.” I think, ,about sneezing but I don’t sneeze. I think I’m just getting three or four
things. Maybe this Duracell 10-pack. Maybe some Raisin Bran Crunch. “Yeah, she was out there dancing. She’s always out there dancing.”
She’s at the end of the aisle scanning and stocking cans of Del Monte peaches. She turns each can for its UPC code and shoots with her hand- held scanner. She laughs and says into a Bluetooth headset, “Have you seen her do that one dance? The one with the leg?”
The other day she checked a bag of Cheetos and chatted with a tall customer. She told him she’s 42, has a 24 year old, with 4 grandchildren. She said her other job is babysitting and the customer laughed like a tall person.
“You don’t look like a grandmother,” he said. She smiled and he shoved in his Bank of America debit card.
Her face is real white. She has penciled-in eyebrows. She has breasts that press against her CVS polo. Her CVS polo tucks into loose parachute pants.
The Bluetooth headset blinks blue in her ear.
“She loves dancing, she had momma out there dancing. That was nice to see.”
I pick up a plastic bottle of CVS multivitamins and pretend to look at the label. I watch her bend for a can of peaches. I look at how her parachute pants tighten on her hips and thighs.
“I guess he don’t dance.”