谢天谢地根本不再会有这样的一个女孩
自从初中时就在
我们当地的杂货经销店当营业员。
单亲妈妈，十年的售后服务之后
晋升了，管理四条井然有序的货架
喷发定型剂，口红，青春焕发的
光彩夺目的挤压膏剂。熟悉的红头发，
棕色眼睛，齿缝很大，微笑着。
愿意把她一包一包的杂物放到一边
和她能背出名字的我们中的每一位聊天。
我忘记了她是玛丽，还是艾利斯，还是珍来。
好在，她问我答，你的日子怎么样？
开车把我下周的一袋袋食物送回家，我想知道
为何她从劳作中起身问候我，
为何她理正好她的工作服
她拉上去一点，骑上她的臀部
一小缕松松的卷发塞进那个地方。
我走过时，她想知道什么，
她问，你过得怎么样？”时
我琢磨，为何我很少反问那个问题。
Praise be to the not-nearly-a-girl anymore
clerking at our local grocery outlet
since junior high. Single mom, moved up
after a decade of customer service
to manage four well-ordered aisles
of hairsprays, lipsticks, and youthful glow
in glittering squeeze tubes. Familiar
red-headed, brown-eyed, gap-toothed
smile. Willing to put aside her boxes of chores
to chat with each of us she names by heart.
I forget if she’s Mary or Alice or Jane.
Fine, I answer after she asks, How’s
your day? And driving my sacks
of next week’s meals home, I wonder
why she rises from her labors to greet me,
why she straightens her smock
where it’s pulled up a bit and rides her hips.
Tucks in place a loose wisp of curl.
When I walk by, what does she want to know,
when she asks, How’s your day?
I wonder why so seldom I’ve asked it back.
