His face is rendered expressionless
with patches of eczema around his mouth and eyes
so fierce that he can’t move them or risk
the cracking.
Over the years I have wondered if an affable man
or at least an intriguing one
lurks inside this chapped mask
and I have vaulted my cleverest banter his way
but he deflects my every effort
with a look that oscillates between
I am bored
and
I quite dislike you.
Still, I come back to him
a few times a week
he is just up the street and sells the basics
almond milk
cans of beans
avocados that are always ripe.
One morning I was driving
early for a meeting
the air misty
the sun still a smudge on the horizon
I saw him
wire coat hanger shape of a man
carefully arranging the bins of fruit and vegetables
on the sidewalk outside his store.
I sat at the red light and watched
him as he caressed an acorn squash
for a long minute
and stood back to admire his
perfect pyramid
of oranges.
I understood him completely
in that moment
his devotion to these forgiving
objects
beauty without
eyes.
How sad I felt then
for all the times
I had aggressively squeezed a papaya
to see if she was ripe
and taken apples from the bottom of the pile
leaving the remainders
in abandoned disarray.
I had felt noble and kind
for giving this brittle man
my business
but each time
without knowing it
I had stolen a little
of his peace.