extraordinary patience

the man behind the 7-Eleven counter

breathes in, when the customer struggling to

get their discount card to read on the scanner

becomes more frustrated with each passing

moment,

he has extraordinary patience,

because this one is representative of the

vast menagerie of stressed out people

on their way to one destination

close or far,

who have found it essential

for whatever reason,

to stop here &

perform their ritual of insanity---

the man’s motions are slow but deliberate &

the routine of punching the buttons is one

that he could do with his eyes closed---

no one who comes through that door with the bell

knows his story,

no one knows if he goes home to an empty house or

if he has a family,

no one knows how long he has worked at this particular

7 Eleven---

all anyone knows is that the movements are

flawless,

that he has perfected the art of ringing up someone for gas &

small items of junk food, comfort food, or

survival foods for the road

(however you define them),

like a man who stands superior over any of us

having mastered a skill,

setting the bar for all who attempt it later &

tomorrow is another working day,

as will be the

next.