Saturday, January 3, 2015

The Gift to Weep.

Usually, I like
that I'm a cryer.

I like crying
when people at work
do great things

and when I come down
the winding road
from Orem to Provo
and see the snow-covered mountains

and when people tell me
sad things
that have happened to them.

But on days like today,

at Target,

with an 8-pack of paper towels
under one arm
and a 24-pack of toilet paper
under the other,

when I misunderstood
the sale sticker
and try to clarify with the cashier
why it's $28 dollars
when I thought it would be $20,

and then she misunderstands me,
and gives me $28 of merchandise
for $15,

and I try to tell her
that she's wrong,
that she was right
the first time,
that I feel dishonest,

but she just gives me a look
like she's laughing at me
and says, "It's okay!"--

in moments like that,
I hate
that everything
makes
me
cry.

Screaming, crying
perfect storm

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