In the grocery store today
I skim several greetings
Rejecting one inane rhyme after another
He hovers
Mute to my “Excuse me”
Oblivious to personal space
Never removing a card from the rack
Or his eyes from me

As I leave with my choice
I hear a breathy “Happy Anniversary”

Carol Tymann lives in upstate New York where her instinct is to believe most people are innocently interested and kind, but sometimes she wonders about their motives. Is she too trusting?