For Louise at the Luncheonette

Sharon Lowe

Just keep wiping down the counter
in slow circles,
turning the rag over and over,
wringing lemons dry above the surface, 
and squeezing the gray into a pail.

No one will notice
when you suddenly reverse course,
throw in the occasional wild figure eight,
or simply move on, unseen.
So you might as well enjoy yourself—now.

And what might they notice?

Some may see the counter gleaming brightly,
Smile, and then, breathe deeply, 
as if for the first time.
Some may sense the long, dull pilgrimage of their day 
pausing in a cool grove of blossoming citrus trees.
And maybe—just maybe,
someone will recognize this place 
of dancing rags 
and grayness wiped clean 
as the place of their resurrection.

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