He seemed frightened
By the music emanating from my car
A part of the song mistakable for death
"It's the music I like."
"Nice music," he says, in an accent.
As he finds it in him to dance
I notice the twenty-month-old
Residing in his stomach
The hair in his ears
The tucked in shirt
The waddle he called a dance
Yet, that moment in time graced me as serene
He shimmied a few more times
Swinging arms as if he were on a ski slope
I hung back the gasoline hose
He grabbed the receit to give me
"American Expressssss."
"Yes sir," I say with a smile.
Oh, yeah, my form of payment.

05/29/2006

Author's Note: *Archive - A favorite of mine.

Posted on 05/16/2007
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