-Yearbook / after 30 years

A cramped, little Variety Store and Bill Mackenzie's behind the counter

“Can I help you, pal?”—

“Umm...yeah. uhh..pack of Luckies.”—

––Mackenzie never did like eye-contact.
His vertical field of view stopped at the neck.
Back in time, nobody seemed to care enough to notice.

Well, except for me which might be the reason I'd come to write poems.

––I remember sneaking a long Pall Mall between classes

Yanked by Mackenzie's fingertips from his oldman's pack
And standing behind a covering tree, passing it from hand to hand,
Let's say a couple of drags each before we were nabbed.

Now, fetching my Luckies, Mackenzie looks older than his years.

––I pay-up in cash money laid out on the counter as if I was placing a bet

Then pulling the same eerily quiet screen door I pushed to get in,

Walked out to the avenue.