Kara-Sue You Deserve Better Things

We bonded over broken bones
displayed our wounds
at check out number seven.

Her namebadge said Kara-Sue
and I thought it unfair
that only she had one
but still didn't say my name.
There wasn't really time.
An old man scowled
behind us
stinking like rank flannel
sending out his bitterness.

I saw Kara-Sue
unloading tins of sweetcorn
with the delicate hand
that hadn't recently been stood on
by a horse.
I grinned and she
waved,
showed me her braces
and enthusiasm.

On Monday she was on the deli
a plastic glove on her good hand.
She told me about her allergies
and I winced
“Red meat, chicken and vegetables
and you work in Tescos?”
I apologised for the pate
she was that moment
spatuling from its trough.

An old lady bristled
at our chatter
and I hurried it along,
thinking
Kara-Sue, you deserve better things.
I picked up my usual
brown bread and skimmed milk,
paid for it
quietly.

Kara-Sue sitting at the check out
wearing your name badge
calmly.
I want to rip it off
terrified I will watch you get old
like I watched Sally get old
on Home and Away.
Gradually,
day by day.

I want to tell you to get up.
Go! Quick! While you can.
But I suspect I'm being irrational
(Where irrational
Means the truth
Too loudly.)
So I just smile
and ask boring questions.
I play along.

I buy my brown bread
and skimmed milk
Quietly.

I don't take too much time
Or scream at staff to leave.
I wave goodbye to Kara-Sue.