The Sun Rising
Trips to Walmart are comforting
because they’re so predictable.
Everything’s in the same place.
There’s always a kid crying over a toy his mother won’t let him buy.
I always get the cart with the squeaky wheel.
I always get the slow check-out lane.
I never see anyone I know.
It’s like they’re all too cool to go to poor, lowly Walmart.
But this time—the boy!
I saw him emerge from the video game section,
and he saw me. The smile that burst upon his face
was brilliant like the sun rising,
but completely unpredictable.