Read Poem: Cosmetic Aisle in Walgreens, by Kelly Burke

The cashier at Walgreens knows that I will not fill out the customer satisfaction survey but she points to the website on my receipt anyway. And I love that about her. I smile, thank her graciously, and leave, walking through the sliding doors into humidity. The heat reminds me of an Indian woman I saw in the cosmetic aisle. Her hair was thick and frizzy, almost grazing her hips. Her fingertips rested on a box of hair dye. For who? I don’t know. Perhaps herself, perhaps the part of her that never experimented with hair color or piercings or tattoos but she’s finding time for all that now. I look at her more meticulously, taking inventory of her details the way men do when they see a beautiful woman. She is wearing a t-shirt with a band’s name across the chest in bold yellow lettering. Her hips and legs are…