We are traveling deeper into
how it really is: Approaching the counter
with my sandwich for the rest of the way
I see the old citizen on his two
canes bantering with the checkout woman,

herself no longer young. His every
other word, it seems, a shit or fuck,
yet I can’t help liking his wrecked impish
survivor’s face. An able-bodied onlooker,
concerned, volunteers to help tote

his groceries, which mostly consist of a hefty
bottle of booze. As he pegs past me, he says
cheerfully, gesturing to the bare left foot
showing under his pajama cuff,
“Want to kiss that?” Only then do I notice

the foot is missing all its toes, only
dirty pink nubs whorled in its broad wedge.
I ask past the shock, “Frozen?” He nods,
“In my own house,” and adds, “for an eighty-
nine-dollar thermostat!” Thinking Diabetes,

I say “Good luck” and watch him chat outside
with a tall man in biker’s leathers
stepping up into the cab of a semi
flatbed loaded with dry, heavy wheels of hay
ready to roll in this bright dark country.

Thomas R. Smith is a poet, essayist, editor, and teacher living in western Wisconsin. His most recent books are Medicine Year (poetry, Paris Morning Publications) and Poetry on the Side of Nature: Writing the Nature Poem as an Act of Survival (prose, Red Dragonfly Press). He posts poems and essays at www.thomasrsmithpoet.com.