He saw happies everywhere--
the flat smile of a hot dog bun
a bread mouth he’d rather talk to than eat,
the side of his tiny fist as he
moved his thumb like a lower lip
and giggled in the back seat of the car
the happy scrawled on a Costco receipt
by the greeter eyeing goods to make sure none were stolen
that’s all it took then to stop his tears
in a world he thought was paying attention
when he was pushed
in a cart out the door.
Krista Genevieve Farris’s poems and stories have been recently published in Tribeca Poetry Review, The Literary Bohemian, The Rain, Party and Disaster Society, and elsewhere. She lives at the “top of Virginia” in Winchester with her husband, three sons, and two dogs. Krista likes dirt–she likes to run on it, plant things in it, and dig it up.
More from Krista Genevieve Farris