Bagels

When her pinched lipped no slaps
red across my open palmed request  

when I carry this sting
to the bagel counter
and am largely ignored, served coarsely  

when I chew the poorly sliced bagel
share it with little manic boy, I swallow
a dingy color that clings to my bones
wearies my breathing  

when the behemoth bagel baker steals
to my table and offers two paper bags
brimming  with end-of-day bagels
he expresses concern; can I carry so many
All kinds, he says, onion, sesame, sun-dried tomato
A whole party, I say, thank you  

I lug the bags along miles of sidewalk
rope handles pinching my skin
grasshopper boy popping madly with excitement
chattering plans of largess and eating adventures
I don’t tell him to calm down. I don’t say
shsh, they’re just bagels
but shift the happy weight in my hands, walking