11/30

He was nine or ten,
in the supermarket by himself
on a Friday at nearly 10pm -
short the 14 cents tax on a
two dollar slice of pizza.
It just so happened I had a
dollar in my pocket - I smoothed
it, handed it to the cashier
who smiled and said: "careful
to pick up your change,
kids like that got sticky fingers."
He winked.  I wanted to grab
him by his apron and rub his
face against the scanner til his
forehead registered a barcode.
I did not.  The boy looked confused
and walked outside.  I think he
mumbled "thanks" on the way.
When I paid for my groceries
and stepped through the automatic
doors into the warm night air,
he was there; triangle shaped box
ajar, he held out his pizza.
"wanna share?"  he asked.  I took
a bite, because it seemed like the
right thing to do.  It tasted exactly
like one would think supermarket
pizza should taste - but I did get a
little hope stuck in my teeth.