Albertsons on Sunday

The air is fresh
and cold for Las Vegas.

Sun blaring I can
just make out
the bumble bee

yellow Volkswagen
Beetle parked in the
spot opposite mine.

It is an original –
the back windows above
a vanity plate
that says

TXSkier are covered
in those black and
white oval stickers
with the abbreviations

of places. I watch
the old man in a
navy vet baseball

cap and thick glasses
struggle with the
non plastic substitue
bags that he is carrying
in for a fleeting instant

while I lock my car.

In the candy aisle a
woman is enthusiastically
helping a different old man
pick out the flavor of

potato chips that
would be best suited
for his Granddaughter.

He thanks her, she waves
goodbye and tells him
to have a wonderful
day.

He makes a noise, a satisfied
sigh of sorts that reminds me
of my Papa Reno.

I toss my items their
basket, a temporary
new home.

The vanilla cocoanut
milks are the heaviest
(I always get two)
but it’s Sunday and I
have the day off so

who cares. In line
the old man with the
navy vet hat and bumble
bee yellow Volkswagen
beetle stands behind

me.

“I noticed your car
and I think it is
wonderful.”

I tell him with a smile.

“It is an original. I
have had her since 1960.
The company I worked for
in Memphis, Tennessee would

use those cars as company
cars to take clients
through the forest because
they were easier than trucks.

This engine has 400,000 miles
on it. It is the third engine
in the car.”

“My second Volkswagen had
to have the transmission
replaced. It took five weeks

for them to ferry one over
from Germany. The first one
was space ship blue with

zebra seat covers. His
name was Lennon. We had lots
of adventures.”

I notice that this man
also has two
vanilla coconut milks.

We say goodbye. I have
rare, fleeting moments
sometimes where everything

I thought I lost is
still everywhere

in the most settled
of

ways.

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