when your grandmother
left the discount grocery store
pushing the metal cart
straight through the parking lot
and onto the sidewalk
You tried to tell her
that she was stealing
but she only cackled
asking if you'd like to
carry the groceries
for the next eight blocks
adding that it's not stealing
if you give it back
How hard you tried
to distance yourself
from her and her muumuu
and her clanging cart
hanging back a few feet
pretending to be interested
in some invisible ants
only to hear her snap at you
to stop lallygagging
You worried what would happen
if someone you knew saw you
complaining that people
might think you were a bum
"Like that guy" you pointed
and she stopped and looked
following your finger
to a shoeless unshaven figure
across a vacant lot
You prayed desperately
for the squeaking wheels to resume
because the silence hurt your ears
nearly as much
as the look she gave you
"But for the grace of God"
you hear her say
mostly to herself
before rustling through
the paper bags in the cart
and producing a slightly
dented orange
How you wished you could
crawl inside the bag
as she leaves your side
marching across the weedy asphalt
to where the shadow is propped
up against a chain link fence
You are terrified
that he will lunge at her
like you are sure he will
(he is a bum after all)
you want to run
but you don't know the way home
you don't know the way
to anywhere
So you stand frozen
watching as the fearless woman
holds out the offering
to the broken man
and you are stunned to witness
that there is no vicious attack
no bark or bite
there is only a smile shared
between two people
And you know you will never
look at an orange the same way again
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