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Countless

Countless

I counted four old people scanning groceries at six open checkouts
I see them everywhere in retail jobs we held in our twenties
jobs you kicked life off with

A wearied comfort has settled their posture
buckled in Jell-O hips, pudding piled breasts
a bejeweled wristwatch
keeping cadence for the hand passing goods to the other

Steadfast practitioners of the White American dream
the ransacked one
the booby-trapped one

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Elvis Otis