At the Market

At the Market

I shop for food
late at night
when no one else is there.

Tonight
I spend too much
buying meat.

I miss the taste.

Pasta is what
I can afford.

Idle banter
with a cashier.

Then,
in line
behind me,
a girl
buying milk.

Knit cap worn low,
heavy jacket turned up.
Gray eyes,
hinting blue
or green.

Driving home,
I wonder,
should I have told her.