Another late night run
milk, for the bottle
the boy will need in the morning.
I detest shopping at the APlus
at the top of the hill–
some small way they offended
my father
a quarter of a century ago.
Can’t quite remember why,
but asking him would not
be prudent at this juncture.
I’m sure he had his reasons.
Me, since you’re dying to know,
having to walk into this walk-in cooler
because the night shift can’t be bothered
to wheel the cart back,
a stationary position, as I sneak in,
grab the gallon, making sure
not to be mistaken
by the color-coded caps
of competing companies.
Papa Conti the Elder
can stick with anger for
the sins of the father.
All will be well
with Papa Conti the Younger,
as long as I don’t walk out
with another bottle of skim.