She used to light up the bakery
with her friendliness and spunk,
and people were happy
to buy her rolls and crescents.
Her child was with her parents
while she was at work,
and she let her car-crazy husband be,
and money from the car factory
kept coming in. Now I run into her,
with child, at the supermarket,
and she’s drawn and pale,
divorced, living in a dinky
apartment with her daughter,
working part time at the drug store,
and her parents are too far away
to be of much help.