A Small Moment

I walk into the bakery next door

To my apartment. They are about

To pull some sort of toast with cheese

From the oven.

When I ask:

What's that smell?

I am being

A poet, I am asking

What everyone else in the shop

Wanted to ask, but somehow couldn't;

I am speaking on behalf of two other

Customers who wanted to buy the

Name of it.

I ask the woman

Behind the counter for a percentage

Of her sale. Am I flirting?

Am I happy because the days

Are longer?

Here's what

She does: She takes her time

Choosing the slices.

"I am picking

Out the good ones," she tells me.

It's

April 14th. Spring, with five to ten

Degrees to go.

Some days, I feel my duty;

Some days, I love my work.