i like this lady.

she stands amongst piles of
things
and sorts through them like a queen.
she knows her space.
i observe her from a distance smelling
the old basement odor that this house
keeps dear to its heart.
this picture of her, my senior friend,
is imprinted into my memories
we are looking for the closest expire date
of the hundreds of energy drinks she keeps
stacked in her basement
she buys them when they are on sale
and she has lots of them
it's the good stuff, you know, honey?
i glance down to the ingredients on the
package of the red colored plastic bottles
six per pack
it's an instinct, i can't help it
cornstarch and sugar are the first goodies on the list.
the rest i can't even pronounce. don't know what it is.
i wonder if she does.
my heart sinks.
sinks for this lady who has worked all her life.
four jobs at a time to raise her daughter by her self.
she never had a day off, not even christmas
she snickers at the teachers who are striking
don't give me my daily bread, she says,
earn it. and she did.
25 dollars in her pockets when she arrived here in guelph.
and she worked hard, bought a house, raised her daughter.
that lady, that stands across from me, with her apron and leggings
and her undone hair
she is still searching for the closest expiry date.
those have to be drunk first, honey.
that's why my heart sinks. because she stands there in the hallway surrounded
by boxes of her things that she has already organized by categories
all done, dear. so nobody else has to do that when i am gone.
her life sits on those shelfs
they are sleeping it seems.
meanwhile, we are still looking for energy drinks.