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She came out pulling At her gloves, face bright With rouge. I smiled,
Before a drugstore. We Entered, the tiny bell Bringing a saleslady Down a narrow aisle of goods. I turned to the candies Tiered like bleachers,
I fingered A nickel in my pocket, And when she lifted a chocolate That cost a dime, I didn’t say anything. I took the nickel from My pocket,then an orange, And set them quietly on The counter.
I took my girl’s hand In mine for two blocks, Then released it to let Her unwrap the chocolate.
I peeled my orange That was so bright against The gray of December That, from some distance, Someone might have thought I was making a fire in my hands.
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