We bonded over broken bones,
displayed our wounds
at check out number seven.

Her namebadge said Kara-Sue
and I thought it unfair
only she had one,
but I didn't say my name.
There wasn't really time.
An old man scowled
behind us
stinking of rank flannel
sending out his bitterness.

I saw Kara-Sue
unloading tins of sweetcorn
with the delicate hand
that hadn't recently been stood on
by a horse.
I grinned and she waved,
showed me her braces
and enthusiasm.

On Monday she was on the deli,
a plastic glove on her good hand.
She told me about her allergies
and I winced,
Red meat, chicken and vegetables
and you work in here?
I apologised for the pâté
she was that moment
spatuling from its trough.

An old lady bristled
at our chatter
and I hurried it along,
thinking
Kara-Sue, you deserve better things.

I picked up my
brown bread and skimmed milk,
paid for it quietly.

Kara-Sue sitting at the check out
wearing her name badge
Calmly.

I want to rip it off.

I'm terrified I will watch her get old
like I watched Sally get old
on Home and Away,
gradually,
day by day

I want to tell her to get up.
To go! Quick! While she can
but I suspect I'm being irrational
(where irrational
means the truth
too loudly.)
so I smile instead
and ask her boring questions.
I play along.

I buy my brown bread
and skimmed milk
quietly.
Don't take up too much time
or scream at staff to leave.

I wave goodbye to Kara-Sue.