Of Course

By little Camilla Jean Welsch

I got playful, I admit.

You know, it was because her eyes

were showing it.

The secret.

The secret what?

Well, love of course,

in the form of a game you have to keep hush about.

I said it to the cashier

(not out loud of course).

In my mind,

I said, “I got you, girl,”

(not out loud of course,

because that’s not part of the game,)

because when I saw her

I knew, of course,

we both knew,

that it was a bad day,

and that I needed to eat peanut M&M’s

straight from my purse, of course,

and she was not-judging-in-the-slightest, patient with my payment form

(hey, 3rd time’s a charm),

and that she couldn’t bear

to somewhere find some bigger bags

when she had 5 people behind me in line,

so she just stuffed some big items into small bags,

and they stuck out ridiculously of course,

but I didn’t mind,

and thanked her for each little gesture

of handing to me, of course.

And when we said goodbye

we twinkled again in each other’s eyes.

Later, I even had a little cry in my car

and hoped she’d hang on to the lingering memory of the game, like I did.

Because her day was worse than mine,

and she had played 

with the secret just fine, of course.

And I admit that,

yes, it was,

her game was better than mine.


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