SPF infinity
the middle-aged cashier gives
the inevitable antipodal greeting:
How ya goin’?
all business in her short sensible haircut
and utilitarian bifocals
she scans things quickly
leaves them on the belt
for us to pack ourselves
then suddenly stops
seizes a bottle
looks at it quizzically
What’s this? she says
and I almost answer
it’s sunscreen
before I catch the twinkle
in her eye
We’re feeling optimistic
I say weakly
while rain lashes the store windows
but she just smiles
and shrugs
