3 times in one week

each lingers for a second while her husband

takes a bag of groceries towards the automatic exit.

I hand over a receipt, she hands back embarrassment

as a pruneskin of an eyelid flashes down

smile back, I have to smile back & just

work through the slight patina of discomfort

& dust that comes with being creeped out.

But I look past my touchscreen to see her

and her beloved husband, holding hands and shuffling

out the automatic doors in too many sweaters,

and I’m proud of her

.