To the Old Man Who Swapped Out My Bananas for His in the Checkout Line at the Buttermilk Hollow Foodland
I should be mad at you,
but I'm not. Almost impressed,
almost got away with it too,
your clever ruse saying,
I forgot my Pepsi,
when I turned my head
as you ran off.
They were the last greenish yellow
bunch in the produce section,
a bright spot in a joyless day,
unlike the brown bruised fingers
you tossed onto the conveyor belt.
What I want you to know is I understand.
You're a Depression baby, like my late father,
meals flavored by scarcity,
always aware of the orchard keeper's dog,
and what shopkeepers notice slights of hand.
And how you live under these cravings,
and would never tell stories
about any of this to your own children,
but they'll find out at your funeral.
About the Author: Matthew Ussia is director of Duquesne University’s First Year Writing Program in spite of the fact that he got a C- in freshman writing and was rejected from Duquesne’s MA program. He is also an editor, scholar, podcaster, post-doom thereminist, and softcore punk. His first book, The Red Glass Cat, was published by Alien Buddha Press in 2021. His second book, Saturday Night on Earth, was published by Alien Buddha Press in 2025. www.matthewussia.com.
Image Credit: “Banana marketing–Ripe bananas go into special boxes for the ride to the retailer” (1948) Public domain image courtesy of The Library of Congress
