on the way home

I’ve got a grocery bag hanging from each hand. On the corner there’s a beefy guy with a shaved head and gold chains. He’s got sharp clothes and I’ve never seen him before. He says to me, “Hey beautiful, tell me those bags are heavy so I can carry them for you.”

“Oh, they’re not that heavy,” I say, but I’m smiling, it’s an easy day in the neighborhood, everybody spilling outside with the rain finally gone.

“My head is heavy cause I’m sad you said that.” He’s got his hand on his pleading heart, his forehead down.

Then a curvy woman crosses between us and says, “You head heavy because it’s big.”


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